He was alone in the darkness once more, but the darkness became brighter and brighter until it was burning like the sun.

Picking five favorite books is like picking the five body parts you'd most like not to lose.

I have no plans to love you," said Coraline. "No matter what. You can't make me love you.

Life - and I don't suppose I'm the first to make this comparison - is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal.

There was a hysteria in there, certainly, but there was also the exhaustion of someone who had managed, somehow, to believe several dozen impossible things in the last twenty-four hours, without ever getting a proper breakfast.

As for thinking time versus writing time, well, that's up to you. But - and I wish it were otherwise - books don't get written by thinking about them, they get written by writing them. And that's when you make discoveries about what you're writing. That's when you get the happy accidents.

I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.