Quotes from Chris Wooding

On reflection,' Crake said to Frey, as they huddled behind an upturned table, 'this wasn't one of your better plans.

How was is that life never worked out the way it did in his head?

They were happy, and free, and the endless sky awaited them. It was enough.

Every day, a person should learn something, experience something, do something that left them changed, even in a small way.

Trudging off into a swamp in the middle of the night had seemed like a god idea at the time but, like most of Frey's ideas, the reality fell short of the concept.

You alright?' Frey asked him. Crake gave him an accusing glare. 'I thought I'd given up all dignity long ago when I joined this crew,' he said. 'But this? This is a new low, Frey.' 'It's character-building,' said Frey.

Real life is a story too, only much more complicated...the world is a library and you'll never get to read the same book twice.

Nothing's bigger than me! Frey shouted back. Me is all I've got.

'Malice' wasn't about horror to start with but an underground comic driven by the power of rumour. However, as nothing fuels a rumour like fear, I decided that it had to be a frightening comic.

They believe all connections are temporary, so to cling to them makes no sense. When someone is gone, they're gone. Live for now; the present is all there is. You can't know what will happen next, so why worry? Consequences are natural and.inevitable. just do what you feel you must.

Spit and blood!

Everything you write makes you better. But if you really need a tip, here's one: a good story begins in opposition to its ending. That means you work out how it finishes first, and then begin the story as far away from that point.

But a man who values nothing is hardly alive at all.

I'd love to see the Iron Jackal's face when he finds out I'm already dead," he said with half a grin. "Now that's irony." "No it ain't, Cap'n. It's just some shit that happened.

At least on the Ketty Jay he was surrounded by people who asked no questions, people untrained in the aristocratic arts of vicious wit and backstabbing. He rather liked that about them, actually.

Malvery snapped his fingers at Pinn. 'Come here. I need that sling.' 'It´s my sling!' Pinn whined. 'You´re wearing a sling ´cause you shot yourself like an idiot. She just saved Silo´s life. See the difference?´ 'No,´Pinn said stubbornly, but he let Malvery undo the sling anyway.

The torturer was wheeling around the room, shrieking, holding his impaled hand, which had a pen sticking out of it. The guard by the door was in paroxysms of laughter. Frey had crumpled the confession into a ball and was trying to get it into his mouth to eat it, but couldn't quote reach.

Treachery was axe, not a scalpel. It was Hard to make a clean cut.

The two of them together in a place like Retribution Falls would result in alcoholic carnage, sure as bird shit on statues.

You leave a rumor long enough, give it the right soil, and it'll grow into a fact . . .

She'd never borne children, never been in love. She'd always dreamed of having friends she could call soulmates, but somehow it never happened.

Living without anchors had its consequences. It was dangerously easy to drift.

I like writing comic pages, discovering the rhythm of the panels, learning how much you can and can't express. It's good to stretch myself as a writer instead of always doing prose work; I write screenplays for the same reason.

There was a big horror boom in the '80s, and I liked its originality and what you could get away with.