He..." Richard began. "The marquis. Well, you know, to be honest, he seems a little bit dodgy to me." Door stopped. The steps dead-ended in a rough brick wall. "Mm," she agreed. "He's a little bit dodgy in the same way that rats are a little bit covered in fur.

Bod shrugged. "So?" he said. "It's only death. I mean, all of my best friends are dead.

Most of us only find our own voices after we've sounded like a lot of other people.

What are these fundamental principles, if they are not atoms?" "Stories. And they give me hope.

Write. Finish things. Get them published. Write something else while you're waiting for someone to publish the first thing.

People talk about escapism as if it's a bad thing... Once you've escaped, once you come back, the world is not the same as when you left it. You come back to it with skills, weapons, knowledge you didn't have before. Then you are better equipped to deal with your current reality.

The names are the first things to go, after the breath has gone, and the beating of the heart. We keep our memories longer than our names.