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Richard opened his hand, and the key stared up at him from his palm. By my crooked teeth, asked Richard, remembering, who am I?
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
Asked
Stared
Hand
Crooked
Hands
Palms
Remember
Richard
Remembering
Opened
Teeth
Keys
Palm
More quotes by Neil Gaiman
We save our lives in such unlikely ways.
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Then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.
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If you, as a parent, raise your children well, they won't need you anymore. If you did it properly, they go away.
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If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.
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The future came and went in the mildly discouraging way that futures do.
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It's always too late for sorries, but I appreciate the sentiment.
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I asked him if it were a mirage, and he said yes. I said it was a dream, and he agreed, But said it was the desert's dream not his. And he told me that in a year or so, when he had aged enough for any man, then he would walk into the wind, until he saw the tents. This time, he said, he would go on with them.
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Leave no path untaken.
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I thought about moving south, about continuing to run, continuing to pretend I was alive. But it was, I knew now, much too late for that. There are doors, after all, between the living and the dead, and they swing in both directions.
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There was no moon but the night sky was a riot of crisp and glittering autumn stars. There were streetlights too and lights on buildings and on bridges which looked like earthbound stars and they glimmered repeated as they were reflected with the city in the night water of the Thames. It’s fairyland thought Richard.
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Rule one of reading other people's stories is that whenever you say 'well that's not convincing' the author tells you that's the bit that wasn't made up. This is because real life is under no obligation to be convincing.
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I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.
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Are we human because we gaze at the stars or do we gaze at the stars because we are human?
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Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.
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I don't think you get perfect couples. At best you get two people building something, and working at it, and loving each other, and doing their best to communicate.
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I am not by nature the kind of creator who is transgressive in order to be transgressive.
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The greatest satisfaction you can obtain from life is your pleasure in producing, in your own individual way, something of value to your fellowmen. That is creative living! For you, life can be a succession of glorious adventures. Or it can be a monotonous bore. Take your choice!
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A philosopher once asked, Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human? Pointless, really...Do the stars gaze back? Now that's a question.
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Work. Home. The pub. Meeting girls. Living in the city. Life. Is that all there is?
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The problems with success, frankly, are infinitely preferable to the problems of failure.
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