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

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.

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

Gods die. And when they truly die they are unmourned and unremembered. Ideas are more difficult to kill than people, but they can be killed, in the end.

I think that there should have been some nice wumpires,' said my sister, wistfully. 'Nice, handsome, misunderstood wumpires.'There were not,' said my father.

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies.