Everybody has a secret world inside of them. I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody – no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside.
NEIL GAIMANThe house smelled musty and damp, and a little sweet, as if it were haunted by the ghosts of long-dead cookies.
More Neil Gaiman Quotes
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Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination.
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Books make great gifts because they have whole worlds inside of them. And it’s much cheaper to buy somebody a book than it is to buy them the whole world!
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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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Books were safer than other people anyway.
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Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which can sometimes pay the rent.
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Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it’s always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins.
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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.
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You get what anybody gets – you get a lifetime.
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Adventures are all very well in their place, but there’s a lot to be said for regular meals and freedom from pain.
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It’s like the people who believe they’ll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn’t work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. If you see what I mean.
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Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.
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The house smelled musty and damp, and a little sweet, as if it were haunted by the ghosts of long-dead cookies.
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An Angel who did not so much fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards.
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This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.
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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?
NEIL GAIMAN