I always say perseverance is nine-tenths of any art — not that it's much help to be nine-tenths an artist, of course.

If a man loved me, I would have talked myself into loving him, and I would have loved him very deeply after a while.

I feel a whole country growing inside me, thousands of years, millions of people, stupid, crazy, shrewd people, and all of them me. I never felt like that before, I never felt that there was anything inside me, even myself.

There's a phrase, "sitzfleisch", which means just plain sitting on your ass and getting it done. Just showing up for work. My uncle Raphael was a painter, and he used to say, "If the muse is late for work, start without her". You have to be there. You have to be there, and do it, and grind it out, even when it is grinding and you know you're probably going to rewrite all this tomorrow.

You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.

How's the Angel of Death supposed to do his job with clipped wings?

This creature is the Pooka. Pay no mind to the shape he wears, for he’s none of his own, and no soul either. Ware him ever, trust him never, but when the wind’s right he has his uses. Never forget that you will never know him. The Pooka’s mystery even to the Pooka.