How wonderful are the women and men in the world who feed us. Especially those who feed us with no salary. The mothers—I thought. The wives.
Love is a warm brain, not a leaping heart.
Hate misleads, fear distorts and love blinds.
To the discovered, the discoverer can be a god.
There's no denying that the way horror has been packaged in the past has done it no favours. Lurid black covers adorned with skulls, corpses crawling with insects and scantily clad maidens being chewed into by vampires -- all good clean fun, but it doesn't do much to give the genre an air of respectability or seriousness to the casual browser.
Your life is a blank, and you're barely a shade across it.
At the heart of any poor soul not at one with the Force, there is only void.
I don't like to play rough, but I will if I have to.
The melancholy have the best sense of the comic, the opulent often the best sense of the rustic, the dissolute often the best sense of the moral, and the doubter often the best sense of the religious.
All men were made by the Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers.
I've never made an outline for any novel that I've written. Never.