Somebody would say, `Can you write us an article about big, bodice-ripping, blockbusting romance novels?’ And I’d say, `Yes, of course,’ because I was a hungry young journalist.

It is said that scattered through Despair’s domain are a multitude of tiny windows, hanging in the void. Each window looks out onto a different scene, being, in our world, a mirror. Sometimes you will...

Notoriety wasn’t as good as fame, but was heaps better than obscurity.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess...

Of course, everyone’s parents are embarrassing. It goes with the territory. The nature of parents is to embarrass merely by existing, just as it is the nature of children of a certain age to cringe...

It’s harder to pick and choose when you’re dead. It’s like a photograph, you know. It doesn’t matter as much.

It’s not what I’d want for at my funeral. When I die, I just want them to plant me somewhere warm. And then when the pretty women walk over my grave I would grab their...

And I thought, eight years ago, when I began carefully charting the progress of American Gods, nervously dipping my toes into the waters of blogging, would I have imagined a future in which, instead of...

Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it.

I woke myself in the darkness, and I knew only that a dream had scared me so badly that I had to wake up or die, and yet, try as I might, I could not...

Yes. We both have a bad feeling. Tonight we shall take our bad feelings and share them, and face them. We shall mourn. We shall drain the bitter dregs of mortality. Pain shared, my brother,...

Idris: Are all people like this?The Doctor: Like what?Idris: So much bigger on the inside.

I’m an author. We don’t want to lead. We don’t need to follow. We stay home and make stuff up and write it down and send it out into the world, and get inside people’s...

This is a roadside attraction,’ said Wednesday. ‘One of the finest. Which means it is a place of power.

Nearly’ only counts in horseshoes and hand-grenades.

I never fell. I don’t care what they say. I’m still doing my job, as I see it.

What’s your name,’ Coraline asked the cat. ‘Look, I’m Coraline. Okay?”Cats don’t have names,’ it said.’No?’ said Coraline.’No,’ said the cat. ‘Now you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We...

Fat Charlie wondered what Rosie’s mother would usually hear in a church. Probably just cries of “Back! Foul best of Hell!” followed by gasps of “Is it alive?” and a nervous inquiry as to whether...

Everybody has a secret world inside of them. I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody — no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. Inside...

Old, old, drink. Tiiiiny little drink. Very small. Almost not there.” She began to hiccup.

And there never was an apple, in Adam’s opinion, that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.

I started writing when I was about 20, 21 maybe.

CORALINE’S STORYTHERE WAS A GIRL HER NAME WAS APPLE. SHE USED TO DANCE A LOT. SHE DANCED AND DANCED UNTIL HER FEET TURND INTO SOSSAJES. THE END.

Organizing gods is like herding cats into straight lines. They don’t take naturally to it.

For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.

Normally, in anything I do, I’m fairly miserable. I do it, and I get grumpy because there is a huge, vast gulf, this aching disparity, between the platonic ideal of the project that was living...

I’m not blessed, or merciful. I’m just me. I’ve got a job to do, and I do it. Listen: even as we’re talking, I’m there for old and young, innocent and guilty, those who die...

Sexton: I think the whole world’s gone mad.Death: Uh-uh. It’s always like this. You probably just don’t get out enough.

M is for magic. All the letters are, if you put them together properly. You can make magic with them, and dreams, and, I hope, even a few surprises…

Right,” said Fat Charlie conversationally. “You realize, of course, that this means war.” It was the traditional war cry of a rabbit when pushed too far.

I still love the book-ness of books, the smell of books: I am a book fetishist—books to me are the coolest and sexiest and most wonderful things there are.

You know what killed off the dinosaurs, Whateley? We did. In one barbecue.

Nobody actually looks like what they really are on the inside. You don’t. I don’t.

It is not that I was credulous, simply that I belived in all things dark and dangerous. It was part of my young creed that the night was full of ghosts and witches, hungry and...

Is there a word for forgetting the name of someone when you want to introduce them to someone else at the same time you realize you’ve forgotten the name of the person you’re introducing them...

Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at the stars because we are human?

There is another version of the tale. That is the tale the women tell each other, in their private language that the men-children are not taught, and that the old men are too wise to...

There are only two worlds – your world, which is the real world, and other worlds, the fantasy. Worlds like this are worlds of the human imagination: their reality, or lack of reality, is not...

The quickest way is sometimes the longest.

Who wears masks?’‘Bank robbers?’‘No.’‘Really ugly people?’‘No.’‘Halloween? People wear masks at Halloween.’‘Yes! They do!’ He flung his arms wide in delight.‘So that’s important?’‘Not even a little bit. But it’s true.

There,” she said, waving her hands at the corridor. The expression of delight on her face was a very bad thing to see.”You’re wrong! You don’t know where your parents are, do you?” she turned...

Lives are snowflakes – forming patterns we have seen before, as like one another as peas in a pod (and have you ever looked at peas in a pod? I mean, really looked at them?...

So I went out and bought myself a copy of the Writer and Artist Yearbook, bought lots of magazines and got on the phone and talked to editors about ideas for stories. Pretty soon I...

I could be blindfolded and dropped into the deepest ocean and I would know where to find you. I could be buried a hundred miles underground and I would know where you are.

There are no whores in Scaithe’s Ebb, or none that consider themselves as such, although there have always been many women who, if pressed, would describe themselves as much-married, with one husband on this ship...

You’re Hell’s Angels, then? What chapter are you from?”REVELATIONS. CHAPTER SIX.

Now you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We know who we are, so we don’t need names.

America was, to them, the place that good people went to when they died. They were prepared to believe just about anything could happen in America.

On the whole, stories don’t write themselves.

If you make art, people will talk about it. Some of the things they say will be nice, some won’t. You’ll already have made that art, and when they’re talking about the last thing you...