It's hard to look too grand when you're led by someone who looks like a pudding with legs.

I didn’t want to know that the monster that lived under your bed when you were a kid not only really is there but used to have a few beers with your dad.

With the knowledge of her aloneness came a rush of self-declaration: “I will not be nothing.”

One doesn't generally look into mirrors when one is especially angry; one has better things to do, like pace the floor or throw things.

The story is always better than your ability to write it. My belief about this is that if you ever get to the point that you think you've done a story justice, you're in the wrong business.

Tell me who you are. You need not tell me your name. Names have power, even human ones. Tell me where you live and what you do with your living.

Vampire. Dangerous. Unknowable. Seriously creepy. This one's name was Constantine. We'd met before.