I'm a great dog fanatic. My own dog died a little while ago and I take it very personally when things die-it's a major offence.

Even winter — the hardest season, the most implacable — dreams, as February creeps on, of the flame that will presently melt it away. Everything tires with time, and starts to seek some opposition, to save it from itself.

Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red.

But I think humans are innately religious as a species, so you don't need a specific excuse for examining the perversely unholy.

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

..which should teach you something about this world. That it's a place where whatever you work for and care about is bound to be taken away from you sooner or later, and there isn't a thing you can do about it.

I really believe that there is an enormous appetite amongst readers for an originality of vision. In other words, be true to your own dreams and there will always be people who want to hear them.