I didn’t know I had another mother,’ said Coraline cautiously. ‘Of course you do. Everyone does,’ said the other mother, her black-button eyes gleaming.
Coraline went over to the window and watched the rain come down. It wasn’t the kind of rain you could go out in – it was the other kind, the kind that threw itself down from the sky and splashed where it landed.
La fe sin sangre no nos lleva tan lejos. Debe correr la sangre. – Te.
She said, ‘You know that I love you.’ And, despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true: the other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold.
It’s there to be admired. It’s there to be.
He thought about going out and buying a Sunday paper but decided not to. Arnold Stockton, Jessica’s boss, a many-chinned, self-made caricature of a man, owned all the Sunday papers that Rupert Murdoch had failed to buy.
Richard was not an enthusiastic holder of pigeons, even at the best of times.
He sang of names and words, of the building blocks beneath the real, the worlds that make worlds, the truths beneath the way things are; he sang of appropriate ends and just conclusions for those who would have hurt him and his. He sang the world. It was a good song, and it was his song. Sometimes it had words, and sometimes it didn’t have any words at all.
We’ve had our ups and downs since then, but that’s what families have, ups and downs.
Instead we have to understand that even lost and forgotten myths are compost, in which stories grow.
Wouldn’t hear of it. Long as you don’t need me to drive a getaway car for your bank robbery I’ll happily take you wherever you need to go. Think of it as the town welcome wagon.
He has two ravens, whom he calls Huginn and Muninn, which mean “thought” and “memory.” These birds fly back and forth across the world, seeking news and bringing Odin all the knowledge of things. They perch on his shoulders and whisper into his ears.
I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we’ll all be wiped out by the common cold.
It’s no harder to be nice than it is to be creepy. And it’s much more fun.
He had done as his dreams had told him, but dreams know more than they reveal, even to the wisest of the gods.
The man with the black-and-white-striped eyes shivered, and began hunting for a door, but none of the guests had remembered to bring a door with them.
It seemed right to go slow in a hearse, although he could barely remember the last time he had seen a hearse on the streets. Death had vanished from the streets of America, thought Shadow; now it happened in hospital rooms and in ambulances. We must not startle the living, thought Shadow.
His smiles were strange things, Shadow decided. They contained no shred of humor, no happiness, no mirth. Wednesday looked like he had learned to smile from a manual.
I’m a troll,” he said. Then he paused, and added, more or less as an afterthought, “Fol rol de ol rol.
Punk still informs everything I do, you have to be willing to make mistakes, and you have to be willing to make mistakes in public. Sometimes the best way to learn something is by doing it wrong and looking at what you did.