You know I love you,' said the other mother flatly.'You have a very funny way of showing it,' said Coraline.

Since the dawn of humanity, stories have allowed each of us to be many.

The autumn twilight turned into deep and early night as they walked. Tristran could smell the distant winter on the air--a mixture of night-mist and crisp darkness and the tang of fallen leaves.

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

Really, he thought, if you couldn't trust a poet to offer sensible advice, who could you trust?

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.