You're no help," he told the lime. This was unfair. It was only a lime; there was nothing special about it at all. It was doing the best it could.
Neil GaimanNow me,โ said Mr. Vandemar. โWhat number am I thinking of?โ โI beg your pardon?โ โWhat number am I thinking of?โ repeated Mr. Vandemar. โItโs between one and a lot,โ he added, helpfully.
Neil GaimanBod was thrilled. He imagined a future in which he could read everything, in which all stories could be opened and discovered.
Neil GaimanHe had kissed her good night that night, and she had tasted like strawberry daiquiris, and he had never wanted to kiss anyone else again.
Neil Gaiman