Is not this world an illusion? And yet it fools everybody.

A fairy tale is the kind of story in which one king goes to another king to borrow a cup of sugar

Not for Moorcock the painful, infrequent excretion of dry little novels like so many rabbit pellets; his is the grand, messy fluxitself, in all its heroic vulgarity, its unquenchable optimism, its enthusiasm for the inexhaustible variousness of things.

Mother goddesses are just as silly a notion as father gods. If a revival of the myths of these cults gives woman emotional satisfaction, it does so at the price of obscuring the real conditions of life. This is why they were invented in the first place.

Losing their names, these things underwent a process of uncreation.

Nostalgia, the vice of the aged. We watch so many old movies our memories come in monochrome.

A day without an argument is like an egg without salt.