You know you can set fire to the capacity to say.

What need, Dunstan wondered, could someone have of the storm-filled eggshells?

All writers have this vague hope that the elves will come in the night and finish any stories.

Is there any person in the world who does not dream? Who does not contain within them worlds unimagined?

Fiction is the lie that tells the truth, after all.

Somebody said that writers are like otters... Otters, if they do a trick and you give them a fish, the next time they'll do a better trick or a different trick because they'd already done that one. And writers tend to be otters. Most of us get pretty bored doing the same trick. We've done it, so let's do something different.

There are little pockets of old time in London, where things and places stay the same, like bubbles in amber,” she explained. “There’s a lot of time in London, and it has to go somewhere—it doesn’t all get used up at once.” “I may still be hung over,” sighed Richard. “That almost made sense.