Quote

Soon,” said the crackling voice of the flame, coming from behind him, “they will fall. Soon they will fall and the star people will meet the earth people. There will be heroes among them, and men who will slay monsters and bring knowledge, but none of them will be gods. This is a poor place for gods.

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
Place
Behind
Gods
Earth
Coming
Star
Men
Bring
None
Crackling
People
Stars
Soon
Slay
Knowledge
Hero
Flame
Poor
Meet
Flames
Voice
Among
Heroes
Fall
Behinds
Monsters

More quotes by Neil Gaiman

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It's certainly not too late to change to the winning side. But you know, you also have the freedom to stay just where you are. That's what it means to be an American. That's the miracle of America. Freedom to believe means the freedom to believe the wrong thing, after all. Just as freedom of speech gives you the right to stay silent.
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The only thing that kept me going was stories. Stories are hope. They take you out of yourself for a bit, and when you get dropped back in, you're different- you're stronger, you've seen more, you've felt more. Stories are like spiritual currency.
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This is the only country in the world, that worries about what it is. The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.
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The tongue is the most remarkable. For we use it both to taste out sweet wine and bitter poison, thus also do we utter words both sweet and sout with the same tongue.
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Whenever it rains you will think of her.
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There are so many places we have not yet seen. So many people still to meet.
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Nothing [the demon] could think up was half as bad as the stuff [people] thought up themselves. They seemed to have a talent for it. It was built into their design somehow. They were born into a world that was against them in a thousand little ways, and then devoted most of their energies to making it worse.
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This is how you can tell a real photographer: mostly, a real photographer does not say 'I wish I had my camera on me right now'. Instead a real photographer pulls out her camera and takes the photograph.
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It is said that scattered through Despair's domain are a multitude of tiny windows, hanging in the void. Each window looks out onto a different scene, being, in our world, a mirror. Sometimes you will look into a mirror and feel the eyes of Despair upon you, feel her hook catch and snag on your heart.
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I think...that I would rather recollect a life mis-spent on fragile things than spent avoiding moral debt.
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I wondered how I looked to her, in that place, and knew that even in a place that was nothing but knowledge that was the one thing I could not know. That if I look inward I would see only infinite mirrors staring into myself for eternity.
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The world is always ending, for someone.
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Anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets.
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The trouble with everything, these days, for me, is time. There is only one me. There are a ridiculous number of demands on my time. There are so many things I'm trying to do. It's so much more about when I'm going to get time to do it, if I get time.
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Writing imaginative tales for the young is like sending coals to Newcastle. For coals.
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Discontent is a good thing: discontented people can modify and improve their worlds, leave them better, leave them different.
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Hey, that's life, flick it off if you can't take a joke.
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Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind/Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,/Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,/Above, beneath, betwixt, between.
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Coraline shivered. She preferred her other mother to have a location: if she were nowhere, then she could be anywhere. And, after all, it is always easier to be afraid of something you cannot see.
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My heart… It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it’s trying to escape because it doesn’t belong to me any more. It belongs to you.
Neil Gaiman