If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.
If you were to try and pick him out of a group of boys, you’d be wrong. He’d be the other one. Over at the side. The one your eye slipped over.
An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards.
Tristan and Yvaine were happy together. Not forever-after, for Time, the thief, eventually takes all things into his dusty storehouse, but they were happy, as these things go, for a long while.
Coraline shivered. She preferred her other mother to have a location: if she were nowhere, then she could be anywhere. And, after all, it is always easier to be afraid of something you cannot see.
Where does contagion end and art begin?
All your questions can be answered, if that is what you want. But once you learn your answers, you can never unlearn them.
It begins, as most things begin, with a song.
Richard did not believe in angels, he never had. He was damned if he was going to start now. Still, it was much easier not to believe in something when it was not actually looking directly at you and saying your name.
I think I’ve got Fear down, but how do I take it all the way up to Terror?
Truly, life is wasted on the living, Nobody Owens. For one of us is too foolish to live, and it is not I.
If you want to call it that. But it is a very specific sort of magic. There’s a magic you take from death. Something leaves the world, something else comes into it.
Because there are mysteries. Because there are things that people are forbidden to speak about. Because there are things they do not remember.
The view changes from where you are standing. Words can wound, and wounds can heal. All of these things are true.
He was alone in the darkness once more, but the darkness became brighter and brighter until it was burning like the sun.
I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My Valentine’s jest somehow seems less funny.
I wonder if I shall ever see her again, and I realize that I scarcely care. I can feel the sheets beneath me, and the cold air on my chest. I feel fine. I feel absolutely fine. I feel nothing at all.
Lies and half-truths fall like snow, covering the things that I remember, the things I saw. A landscape, unrecognizable after a snowfall; that is that she has made of my life.
Fear is contagious. You can catch it. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to say that they’re scared for the fear to become real. Mo was terrified, and now Nick was too.
Actually I didn’t shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die, but he could tell I was extremely cross.