Life - and I don't suppose I'm the first to make this comparison - is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal.

I like horror, but I tend to like it as seasoning. I'd get very bored if I was told I had to write a horror novel. I'd love to write a novel with horror elements, but too much, and it doesn't taste of anything else.

Writing is flying in dreams. When you remember. When you can. When it works. It's that easy.

The end of the story of Batman is he's dead. Because, in the end, the Batman dies. What else am I going to do? Retire and play golf? It doesn't work that way. It can't. I fight until I drop. And one day, I will drop.

For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.

She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful.

But standing in that hallway, it was all coming back to me. Memories were waiting at the edges of things, beckoning to me.