Life

I was blessed with a birth and a death, and I guess I just want some say in between.

The art of living. Isn't that a funny expression?

It waited for her. Standing resolute in the moonlight, it had stood for a hundred years. Yet it waited just for her. Shadows passed across the moon, a cool breeze ruffled the leaves around it. Yet still it waited for her. Ancient tombs glowed in shimmery moonlight, row upon row of cold silent witnesses.

Life goes on just like summer goes to rain. But remember there will always be a rainbow after the rain. Always.

You only live twice. Once when you are born and once when you look death in the face.

I don't necessarily start with the beginning of the book. I just start with the part of the story that's most vivid in my imagination and work forward and backward from there.

Children are born with imaginations in mint condition, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Then life corrects for grandiosity.

Life on Earth is not the result of a series of miracles performed by a supernatural god-creator, and it is definitely not a product of matter having a mind of its own, of an equally miraculous evolutionary process supervised by Lady Natural Selection who would turn rabbits into lions.

You fear tomorrow: yet yesterday is just as dangerous.

I talk to people of different ages, and a guy who's 38 who says, 'I could've played Major League Baseball, but I had this knee injury...' Yeah, probably not. It's a big thing with men and sports, where they think they could have touched that thing.

...You won't age? I promise you this - your hands will go shiny and transparent and at the slightest bruise they'll bleed...

Something has spoken to me in the night...And told me that I shall die, I know not where. Saying: '[Death is] to lose the earth you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth.

Warlock: Four thousand and fifty-three metric tons of inert rock, metal and organic matter, frozen solid.Quasar: Frozen in what?Drax: Time.Quasar: 'Time', Drax?Drax: Uh-huh. Old, old frozen time.Quasar: Right. And that tastes like what?Drax: Regret.

They were of the past, and the past always mends itself, no matter how me interfere.

Most of my interests in terms of writing are dark, so it's discordant how much I try to lock into the vibe of wherever I'm at. Inhabiting the life of the imagination is the nature of survival strategy - you build yourself little worlds to enjoy.

She had the wild look of someone who hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, with purplish semicircles underneath both her eyes. Being eighteen was like being made out of rubber and cocaine.

We don't tend to write about disease in fiction - not just teen novels but all American novels - because it doesn't fit in with our idea of the heroic romantic epic. There is room only for sacrifice, heroism, war, politics and family struggle.

All that helter-skelter about strings and memories was only relevant in the dark. It was light out now and time to put away childish things.

I realize how unique my path has been. And I'm thankful for that.

I get that same queasy, nervous, thrilling feeling every time I go to work. That's never worn off since I was 12 years-old with my dad's 8-millimeter movie camera.