We owe it to each other to tell stories.
NEIL GAIMANIn a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again.
More Neil Gaiman Quotes
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May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful.
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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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Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again. Whenever it rains you will think of her.
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The future came and went in the mildly discouraging way that futures do.
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To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due.
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I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, you’re doing something.
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The sky had never seemed so sky; the world had never seemed so world.
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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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Life is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal.
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It’s not hard to own something. Or everything. You just have to know that it’s yours, and then be willing to let it go.
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Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.
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I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.
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But how can you walk away from something and still come back to it?
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I don’t want whatever I want. Nobody does. Not really. What kind of fun would it be if I just got everything I ever wanted just like that, and it didn’t mean anything? What then?
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There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t remember and that she can’t even let herself think about because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle.
NEIL GAIMAN






