It's rather useless to write a gripping narrative with nothing in it but climate change because novels are always about people even if they purport to be about rabbits or robots.

Vampires get the joy of flying around and living forever, werewolves get the joy of animal spirits. But zombies, they're not rich, or aristocratic, they shuffle around. They're a group phenomenon, they're not very fast, they're quite sickly. So what's the pleasure of being one?

The alcohol smell is on my fingers, cold and remote, piercing like a steel pin going in. It smells like white enamel basins. When I look up at the stars in the nighttime, cold and white and sharp, I think they must smell like that.

If your not annoying somebody, you're not alive.

All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel.

We are very short on organs, and the pig solution is probably a lot better than the human clone solution - though maybe not for the pigs.

I hope that people will finally come to realize that there is only one 'race' - the human race - and that we are all members of it.