American Gods is about 200,000 words long, and I'm sure there are words that are simply in there 'cause I like them. I know I couldn't justify each and every one of them.

There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won't remember and that she can't even let herself think about because that's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow endless drizzle.

The imagination is a muscle. If it is not exercised, it atrophies.

I'm intrigued with figuring out the places [where] the horrible and the beautiful meet - that aesthetic fascinates me.

It would have been hard for Fat Charlie to say exactly when the accumulation of birds on the wire mesh moved from interesting to terrifying. It was somewhere in the first hundred or so, anyway. And it was in the way they didn't coo, or caw, or trill, or song. They simply landed on the wire, and they watched him.

I am amiable. Vague. Puzzled. Messy-haired.

I'm somebody who considers happiness a journey, not a destination.