In a novel, you can always go back and make it look like you knew what you were doing all along before the thing goes out and gets published.

Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.

There are little pockets of old time in London, where things and places stay the same, like bubble in amber.

You know what the really scary thing about bad dreams? It's that something's going on in your head, and you can't control it. I mean, It's like there's these bad worlds inside you. But it's just you... it's like you're betraying yourself.

London grew into something huge and contradictory. It was a good place, and a fine city, but there is a price to be paid for all good places, and a price that all good places have to pay.

All your questions can be answered, if that is what you want. But once you learn your answers, you can never unlearn them.

Richard began to understand darkness: darkness as something solid and real, so much more than a simple absence of light. He felt it touch his skin, questing, moving, exploring: gliding through his mind. It slipped into his lungs, behind his eyes, into his mouth.