He didn't want to remember anymore. remembering only hurt him... everytime.

…my life has been a remarkable one. Maybe one day someone will write a book about me . . .” "I’ve never much cared for horror stories.

Once you get into the world of dystopia, it's hard to avoid plagiarism, because other people have had such powerful visions.

Look at self-satisfied pop singers or greasy, semi-literate athletes. People worship them. Why?” "Because they’re talented.

Death is the same for the one who dies.

If this is what you do to the winner, I'd hate to see how you treat the runner up.

Statues lined the stairs and stood, dotted across the roof. But they had been brutalized by time and the weather. Some were missing arms. Many had no faces. Once they had been saints and angels. Two hundred years standing in London had turned them into cripples.