I'm more or less happily writing Chapter Six of The Graveyard Book. I say more or less as I'm at that place where I hope that the book knows what it's doing because right now I don't have a clue - I'm writing one scene after another like a man walking through a valley in thick fog, just able to see the path a little way ahead, but with no idea where it's actually going to lead him.

The truth is, it's not the idea, it's never the idea, it's always what you do with it.

Have you ever had one of those days when something just seems to be trying to tell you somebody?

I was writing the kind of comic that would make me, at age 26 or 27, go down to a comic book store every month and spend my $2. That was my starting point. I wanted to write a comic that I would read. And that's still my agenda.

To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due.

You're brave. You are the bravest person I know, and you are my friend. I don't care if you are imaginary.

Take what you have learned, and move on.