I don't think there's really any difference between art - or writing, or music - and magic. And I particularly draw the link between magic and writing. I think that they are profoundly connected.

The announcement that there is a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen television series hasn't caused me to drastically alter my opinions. Now it seems they are recycling things that have already proven not to work.

Through my blue fingers, pink grains are falling, haphazard, random, a disorganized stream of silicone that seems pregnant with the possibility of every conceivable shape… But this is illusion. Things have their shape in time, not space alone. Some marble blocks have statues within them, embedded in their future.

Perhaps this is the purpose of all art, all writing, on the murders, fiction and non-fiction: Simply to participate.

I shall die here. Every last inch of me shall perish. Except one. An inch. It's small and it's fragile and it's the only thing in the world worth having. we must never lose it, or sell it, or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.

I'm not a particularly dark individual. I have my moments, it's true, but I do have a sense of humor.

There's been a growing dissatisfaction and distrust with the conventional publishing industry, in that you tend to have a lot of formerly reputable imprints now owned by big conglomerates.