Quotes About Author

The most punk rock thing about J's stuff was how much he mixed all his influences

the conclusions reached in the Goldstone Report are not worthy of consideration by people of goodwill.

an angel sent on this business…could have done nothing

Call them, tell them I never said it," he urged me. Contacting the White House Situation Room for the first time, I reached Rahm and David. Their response

You ignorant little rodent! This isn't just an old book. This is the book of Everafter. Sorry, I haven't read it. I'm waiting for the movie, Puck said.

The natural fragrance of her body was a spicy, angry smell like that of fresh pencil shavings.

His coat] emitted an odor of bus station so desolate that just standing next to him you could feel your luck changing for the worse.

He looked like a man dangerously addicted to the correction of mistaken people.

You read my Cosmo? I read all of your magazines. I took all the love quizzes and pretended I was you answering the questions. How did I do? You cheated, I said.

the Mandrill with his multicolored wonder ass that he used to bedazzle opponents.

Then he saw that in gun-colored ink on the inside of her left arm, she bore the recent history, in five digits, of her life, her family, and the world. He

Alcohol as helpful to the making of scapegoats as mud to the shaping of golems.

Wait, no, fuck cheese. Cheese is all about spores and, and, molds and all that shit. Maybe cheese is trying to colonize our brains, too. Cheese and music duking it out for control of the human nervous system.

Literature, like magic, has always been about the handling of secrets, about the pain, the destruction, and the marvelous liberation that can result when they are revealed.

I do my writing in the morning, now, if the boy will let me, and in the afternoon when I'm not teaching, and sometimes in the evening when I get home from the Alibi Tavern.

there was a general impression of imminent catastrophe and red lipstick.

His bare shoulders were ivory-yellow and densely freckled. The freckles, like his hair and eyelashes, were the color of a Nilla wafer.

You know I have no patience with nonsense, said the Northeast's leading wholesaler of chattering windup mandibles.

Just to spite himself, because spiting himself, spiting others, spiting the world is the pastime and only patrimony of Landsman and his people.

I'd wanted to work in a true, old-fashioned bookshop, crammed with the mingled smells of literature and Pittsburgh blowing in through the open door. Instead I'd got myself hired by Boardwalk Books.

I said that I had heard curiosity could be harmful, in particular to cats

Paper." "What kind of paper? What for?" "A letter." "Business? Personal? This is for you? You're going to write a letter?" "Yes, sir." "Well, what kind of a letter is it?" Tommy considered the question for a moment, seriously. He didn't want to get the wrong kind of paper. "A death threat," he said at last.

Life blew in gusts from the hole in the side of the elephant with a rank smell and a comic flatulence.

Smoke had left the eye sockets of houses with black eyebrows of astonishment. Cats