Shadow had heard too many people telling each other not to repress their feelings, to let their emotions out, let the pain go. Shadow thought there was a lot to be said for bottling up emotions. If you did it long enough and deep enough, he suspected, pretty soon you wouldn't feel anything at all.

Dreams are composed of many things, my son. Of images and hopes, of fears and memories. Memories of the past, and memories of the future.

Richard did not believe in angels, he never had. He was damned if he was going to start now. Still, it was much easier not to believe in something when it was not actually looking directly at you and saying your name.

You can't run away from home without destroying somebody's world.

I wanted to write something that would be a comedy in the sense of making people feel happier when they finish it than they did when began it.

Bod was thrilled. He imagined a future in which he could read everything, in which all stories could be opened and discovered.

Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.