When most people said "I'm psychic, you see," they meant "I have an overactive but unoriginal imagination<br>wear black … - Neil Gaiman

wear black nail varnish
talk to my budgie;" when Anathema said it, it sounded as though she was admitting to a hereditary disease which she'd much prefer not to have.">

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I don't tend to think in terms of a moral authority - be a good boy, do good things - more in terms of what feels right.

Neil Gaiman

When most people said "I'm psychic, you see," they meant "I have an overactive but unoriginal imagination
wear black nail varnish
talk to my budgie;" when Anathema said it, it sounded as though she was admitting to a hereditary disease which she'd much prefer not to have.

Budgie, Imagination, Meant, People, Psychics, Sounded

Same Author Quotes

Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.

Chasing, Like, Moving, Perfection, Writing

Dahling, when God put teeth in your mouth, he ruined a perfectly good arsehole.

Arseholes, God, Mouth, Perfectly, Perfectly Good, Teeth

Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.

Age, Like, Looks, Thoughtless, Whole, World

In a world where people die every day, I think the important thing to remember is that for each moment of sorrow we get when people leave this world there's a corresponding moment of joy when a new baby comes into this world. That first wail is-well, it's magic, isn't it? Perhaps it's a hard thing to say, but joy and sorrow are like milk and cookies. That's how well they go together. I think we should all take a moment to meditate on that.

Baby, Die, People, Sorrow, Thinking

I watched my life as if it were happening to someone else. My son died. And I was hurt, but I watched my hurt, and even relished it, a little, for now I could write a real death, a true loss. My heart was broken by my dark lady, and I wept, in my room, alone; but while I wept, somewhere inside I smiled.

Broken, Death, Hurt, Real, Write, Writing