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

For me, I would rather read a good book, from a contented author. I don't really care what it takes to produce that.

Anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets.

I tweet, therefore my entire life has shrunk to 140 character chunks of instant event and predigested gnomic wisdom. And swearing.

And so there is magic.

The world always seems brighter when you've just made something that wasn't there before.

We live in a world in which the only utopian visions arrive in commercial breaks: magical visions of an impossibly hospitable world, peopled by bright-eyed attractive men, women, children... Where nobody dies... In my worlds people died. And I thought that was honest. I thought I was being honest.