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  • #1
    Neil Gaiman
    “She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood.

    She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.”
    Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

  • #2
    Neil Gaiman
    “To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due.”
    Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 4: Season of Mists

  • #3
    Neil Gaiman
    “In every way that counted, I was dead. Inside somewhere maybe I was screaming and weeping and howling like an animal, but that was another person deep inside, another person who had no access to the lips and face and mouth and head, so on the surface I just shrugged and smile and kept moving. If I could have physically passed away, just let it all go, like that, without doing anything, stepped out of life as easily as walking through a door I would have done. But I was going to sleep at night and waking in the morning, disappointed to be there and resigned to existence.”
    Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

  • #4
    Neil Gaiman
    “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 you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
    Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones

  • #5
    Neil Gaiman
    “There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won't remember and that she can't even let herself think about because that's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle.

    You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sign, and a voice that might be hers will say something that you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.

    Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.

    Whenever it rains you will think of her. ”
    Neil Gaiman

  • #6
    Neil Gaiman
    “Stories you read when you're the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you'll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit.”
    Neil Gaiman, M Is for Magic

  • #7
    Neil Gaiman
    “I am selfish, private and easily bored. Will this be a problem?”
    Neil Gaiman, A Study in Emerald

  • #8
    Neil Gaiman
    “Anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets.”
    Neil Gaiman, Stardust

  • #9
    Neil Gaiman
    “Every hour wounds. The last one kills.”
    Neil Gaiman, American Gods

  • #10
    Neil Gaiman
    “Name the different kinds of people,’ said Miss Lupescu. ‘Now.’

    Bod thought for a moment. ‘The living,’ he said. ‘Er. The dead.’ He stopped. Then, ‘... Cats?’ he offered, uncertainly.”
    Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

  • #11
    Neil Gaiman
    “It is astonishing just how much of what we are can be tied to the beds we wake up in in the morning, and it is astonishing how fragile that can be.”
    Neil Gaiman, Coraline

  • #12
    Neil Gaiman
    “I thought I was your destination. Looks like I was just another stop on the line.”
    Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

  • #13
    Neil Gaiman
    “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 in my head, and the small, sad, wizened, shaking, squeaking thing that I actually produce.”
    Neil Gaiman

  • #14
    Neil Gaiman
    “Oh, monsters are scared," said Lettie. "That's why they're monsters.”
    Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

  • #15
    Neil Gaiman
    “He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or if it was something that you found in the end, if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough.”
    Neil Gaiman, American Gods

  • #16
    Neil Gaiman
    “There was a tale he had read once, long ago, as a small boy: the story of a traveler who had slipped down a cliff, with man-eating tigers above him and a lethal fall below him, who managed to stop his fall halfway down the side of the cliff, holding on for dear life. There was a clump of strawberries beside him, and certain death above him and below. What should he do? went the question.

    And the reply was, Eat the strawberries.

    The story had never made sense to him as a boy. It did now.”
    Neil Gaiman, American Gods

  • #17
    Neil Gaiman
    “She said we all not only could know everything. We do. We just tell ourselves we don't to make it all bearable.”
    Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives

  • #18
    Neil Gaiman
    “Belinda stared into the fire for some time, thinking about what she had in her life, and what she had given up; and whether it would be worse to love someone who was no longer there, or not to love someone who was.”
    Neil Gaiman, Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fiction and Illusions
    tags: love

  • #19
    Neil Gaiman
    “All we have to believe with is our senses, the tools we use to perceive the world: our sight, our touch, our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted. And even if we do not believe, then still we cannot travel in any other way than the road our senses show us; and we must walk that road to the end.”
    Neil Gaiman, American Gods

  • #20
    Neil Gaiman
    “Nothing’s changed. You’ll go home. You’ll be bored. You’ll be ignored. No one will listen to you, really listen to you. You’re too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don’t even get your name right.”
    Neil Gaiman, Coraline

  • #21
    Terry Pratchett
    “Yes! I'm me! I am careful and logical and I look up things I don't understand! When I hear people use the wrong words, I get edgy! I am good with cheese. I read books fast! I think! And I always have a piece of string! That's the kind of person I am!”
    Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men

  • #22
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “As far as I can recall, the initial shiver of inspiration [for Lolita] was somehow prompted by a newspaper story about an ape in the Jardin des Plantes, who, after months of coaxing by a scientist, produced the first drawing ever charcoaled by an animal: this sketch showed the bars of the poor creature's cage.”
    Vladimir Nabokov

  • #23
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “A thousand years ago five minutes were
    Equal to forty ounces of fine sand.
    Outstare the stars. Infinite foretime and
    Infinite aftertime: above your head
    They close like giant wings, and you are dead.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire

  • #24
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “The lost glove is happy.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire

  • #25
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
    By the false azure in the windowpane;
    I was the smudge of ashen fluff -and I
    Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.
    And from the inside, too, I'd duplicate
    Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate:
    Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass
    Hang all the furniture above the grass,
    And how delightful when a fall of snow
    Covered my glimpse of lawn and reached up so
    As to make chair and bed exactly stand
    Upon that snow, out in that crystal land!”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire

  • #26
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  • #27
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

  • #28
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “Some people—and I am one of them—hate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm. Doom should not jam. The avalanche stopping in its tracks a few feet above the cowering village behaves not only unnaturally but unethically.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin

  • #29
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight

  • #30
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita



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