Let the mad find wisdom in their madness for the sane, and let the sane be grateful.

We're both thieves, Harvey Swick. I take time. You take lives. But in the end we're the same: both Thieves of Always.

Angels have very nasty tempers. Especially when they’re feeling righteous.

Zombies are the liberal nightmare. Here you have the masses, whom you would love to love, appearing at your front door with their faces falling off; and you're trying to be as humane as you possibly can, but they are, after all, eating the cat. And the fear of mass activity, of mindlessness on a national scale, underlies my fear of zombies.

We burn so hard, but we shed so little light; it makes us crazy and sad.

I can see in your eyes that there’s no seam of untapped joy left in you. The best of life has come and gone. Those days when sudden epiphanies swept over you, and you had visions of the rightness of all things and of your place amongst them; they’re history. You’re in a darker place now.

After all, where can the glorious, the goofy, and the god-like stand shoulder to shoulder?