Journey to the end of day, Come the fire-fly, Come the moon; Say a prayer for God's good grace And sleep with lore upon your face.

There are lives lived for love, and lives lived for art. We, happy band, have chosen the later persuasion.

I don't like to make a distinction between the writer and the painter , finally , because I do both things anyway . Everybody's dreaming and trying to put down their dreams in the way that their hand knows best . I feel as much a unity , as much comradeship , with painters as I do writers .

She's...just a girl, you know. Like most girls: something and nothing.

I know that I want to bring sex and horror together as I have been able to in my books.

With the inevitability of a tongue returning to probe a painful tooth, we come back and back and back again to our fears, sitting to talk them over with the eagerness of a hungry man before a full and steaming plate.

Your flesh is killing your spirit. You have forsaken yourself.