You don't get explanations in real life. You just get moments that are absolutely, utterly, inexplicably odd.

Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which can sometimes pay the rent.

It always rains on the unloved-wet dreams-a fishing expedition-she kisses wyverns (the disneyland analogy)-dinner etiquette and chocolate lovers-desire swears by the first circle-'things are changing'-what can possibly go wrong?

Suffering is sometimes cleansing,” said the man. His clothes were casual, but expensive. “It can purify.'“It can also fuck you up,” said Shadow.

Without stories, we are incomplete.

The burning point of paper was the moment where I knew that I would have to remember this. Because people would have to remember books, if other people burn them or forget them. We will commit them to memory. We will be come them. We become authors. We become their books.