Was it my fault that I got out of hand? --Loki

Online communities are an expression of loneliness.

We came in the wind of the carnival. A wind of change, or promises. The merry wind, the magical wind, making March hares of everyone, tumbling blossoms and coat-tails and hats; rushing towards summer in a frenzy of exuberance.

I'm not sure I believe in the whole 'ghost-afterlife' thing, but I think places are marked by people who have been there.

The battle of good and evil reduced to a fat woman standing in front of a chocolate shop, saying, Will I? Won’t I? in pitiful indecision.

The great thing about books is that you can end with a question mark.

The process of writing is a little like madness, a kind of possession not altogether benign.