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Remember: that giants sleep too soundly that witches are often betrayed by their appetites dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always hearts can be well-hidden, and you can betray them with your tongue. (from Instructions)

Neil Gaiman

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Neil Gaiman
Age: 64
Born: 1960
Born: November 10
Actor
Author
Beekeeper
Blogger
Comics Writer
Film Director
Film Producer
Journalist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Portchester
Hampshire
Neil Richard Gaiman
Neil Richard MacKinnon Gaiman
Always
Somewhere
Spot
Soundly
Hearts
Instruction
Appetites
Sleep
Appetite
Witches
Often
Giants
Instructions
Remember
Soft
Betrayed
Wells
Spots
Dragons
Well
Hidden
Witch
Heart
Tongue
Betray

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I liked myths. They weren't adult stories and they weren't children's stories. They were better than that. They just were.
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There were people you could hug, and then there was Silas.
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The future had suddenly become unknowable: anything could happen: the train of my life had jumped the rails and headed off across the fields and coming down the lane with me, then.
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You don't get explanations in real life. You just get moments that are absolutely, utterly, inexplicably odd.
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What are these fundamental principles, if they are not atoms? Stories. And they give me hope.
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Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
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Because, if one is writing novels today, concentrating on the beauty of the prose is right up there with concentrating on your semi-colons, for wasted effort.
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If writing a novel is a year's exile to a foreign country, writing a short story is a weekend spent somewhere exotic. They're much more like vacations, more exciting and different, and you're off.
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I'd love to write some porn, but I don't know if I have the right engines. When I was a young man and I was tempted to write porn, imaginary parents would appear over my shoulder and read what I was writing just about the point that I managed to banish the imaginary parents, real children would lean over my shoulder and read what I was writing.
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Libraries are the thin red line between civilization and barbarism.
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You know what my mum once said?’ said Rosie… ‘She said that if a just-married couple put a coin in a jar every time they make love in their first year, and take a coin out for every time that they make love in the years that follow, the jar will never be emptied.’ And this means…?’ Well’, she said. ‘It’s interesting, isn’t it?
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Truly life is wasted on the living.
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Dahling, when God put teeth in your mouth, he ruined a perfectly good arsehole.
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They also held that the way to salvation was to give way to lust and temptation in all things. And no greater percentage of them turned up here than of any other religion. Amusing, isn't it?
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I toyed briefly with an image someone once mentioned to me, of a village in the shadow of a twin-peaked mountain. In the morning the sun rises. At lunch it sets behind the mountain. In the early afternoon it rises once more. The cocks crow for the second time, and later the sun sets again. No. One peak. Metaphors should not be belaboured.
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The past is always knocking at the door, trying to break through into today.
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Tools, of course, can be the subtlest of traps.
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On the first day Coraline's family moved in, Miss Spink and Miss Forcible made a point of telling Coraline how dangerous the well was, and they warned her to be sure she kept away from it. So Coraline set off to explore for it, so that she knew where it was, to keep away from it properly.
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The TV's the altar. I'm what people are sacrificing to.' 'What do they sacrifice?' asked Shadow. 'Their time, mostly,' said Lucy. 'Sometimes each other.
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She was witchy, yes, and in charge of a cauldron roiling with ideas and stories, but she always gave the impression that the stories, the ones she wrote and wrote so very well and so wisely, had simply happened, and that all she had done was to hold the pen. (On Diana Wynne Jones)
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