Quotes from Richard Kadrey

If I'm going to ride this out and stay alive, then I'm king high ballbuster. I took on God and almost did the old man in. A few grumpy horns and hoofs types and a petting zoo full of rabid Pokemons? I'm Satan. I can deal that and play "Smoke on the Water" while getting a lap dance on a runaway train all at the same time.

Hell doesn't run on prayers or promises. Downtown magic is about reaching out and grabbing what you want, and that requires payment. An offering. Blood.

Reality is a two-ton weight strapped to your balls. And they just keep getting heavier.

Cash is the magic that anyone can do.

He says, "Look into your heart, Stark," and hangs up. I look into my heart and all I can see is bourbon and me punching Samael in the balls.

It's more than coping. It's adaptation. You go into the dark one species and mutate to fit your surroundings. Grow better eyes and ears. Get used to the feel of the air so you can tell when something is coming at you. After a while you're so suited to the environment you're a whole new species.

I close my eyes. "I keep coming back to this one thought: that I know everything about monsters and nothing about people.

Your image of yourself is one of a beast. A benevolent one, but a beast nonetheless. As much as this might pain you, it is also easy and familiar. It allows you to do away with deeper emotions.

Black magic on Earth isn't so different and it's why so many dark magicians dress like cashiers at Hot Topic. Black is a good color anytime you're flinging around blood.

You still think I have a good side?" "There's a search party out for it but I'm optimistic they'll turn up something.

The third time you commit murder, you change into that extra shirt you brought along, the one that's not covered in blood, and you go out for a drink.

Lucifer was his name in Perdition. In Heaven, he's Samael.

Quid salvum est si Roma perit?" What is safe if Rome perishes?

Perfect. Another B-movie dream sequence to start the day. Why can't I ever win in these things? Instead, it's always some Jacob's Ladder outtake, and I want to talk to the director because the script needs a rewrite.

But hanging around with a bunch of incorporeal fuckups sounds downright depressing, and I don't need more of that right now.

Because someone owes me for it. Every second I was there. Every beating. Every bad habit and every shitty dream.

I'm on the edge of vomiting up everything I ever ate since childhood, strained peas to chicken and waffles. Damn. Wrong memories. My stomach starts doing a hillbilly two-step.

Do you even know what death is, Tom?" I say. "It's dumb, and it's loud, and it smells bad; you're in Hell and you want to die to get away from it all, but you're already dead and there's nowhere to go. And what's worse is you know you're there because you deserve it, because you're such a fucking waste of skin and gristle. So no, I don't want to die. It's no fun and there's too many people like you there.

I ride the Hog up winding roads into the hinterlands of Benedict Canyon to a Gothic-style mansion right out of a thirties Universal horror movie. Dr. Frankenstein's summer home, or where a friendly neighbor chains up Lyle Talbot during the full moon. Even the name Lisa Thivierge is living under—Janet Lawton—is a gag: the name of the ingenue in the old Ed Wood movie Bride of the Monster. I like Thivierge already.

Going without meat for one meal won't kill you." I look over the food. "This might. Spinach and cauliflower aren't vegetables. They're punishment. They're the solitary confinement of food.

Money is strange, too, if you haven't used it for a while. Hell is mostly a barter economy. Especially among the high and mighty, having to buy something is a massive social faux pas. It means that you don't have anything good enough to trade or you aren't clever enough to swindle your way to your heart's desire. Brad Pitt's wad seemed like a fortune when I counted it, but I blow through most of it in a couple of hours.

The look she gives me isn't quite a sneer. It's more like she opened a garbage can and found a dead skunk inside.

If cell phones came with a cigarette dispenser, they'd be the greatest stupid invention ever.

On the TV, some poor Indian has just died hauling Fitzcarraldo's boat over the mountain. The Indian's friends are gathered around his body, but Fitz is screaming for them to keep pulling his boat. He's the hero of the story and he's completely nuts. This isn't going to have a happy ending.