They believe themselves Lucifer's equals, Cain, all these pitiful little gnats. But there is only one that we have ever owned to be our superior. There is but one greater than us, and to him... to him we no longer speak.
Neil GaimanThey also held that the way to salvation was to give way to lust and temptation in all things. And no greater percentage of them turned up here than of any other religion. Amusing, isn't it?
Neil GaimanOf course you don't believe in fairies. You're fifteen. You think I believed in fairies at fifteen? Took me until I was at least a hundred and forty. Hundred and fifty, maybe. Anyway, he wasn't a fairy. He was a librarian. All right?
Neil GaimanMots clés belief stories faith magic fairies
Why do they blame me for all their little failings? They use my name as if I spent my entire days sitting on their shoulders, forcing them to commit acts they would otherwise find repulsive. 'The devil made me do it.' I have never made one of them do anything. Never. They live their own tiny lives. I do not live their lives for them.
Neil GaimanIt's easy, there's a trick to it, you do it or you die.
Neil GaimanMots clés life inspirational magic
How old are you?" said the girl. "What are you doing here? Do you live here? What's your name?"
"I don't know," said Bod.
"You don't know your name?" said the girl. "Course you do. Everybody knows their own name. Fibber."
"I know my name," said Bod. "And I know what I'm doing here. But I don't know the other things you said.
Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind/Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,/Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,/Above, beneath, betwixt, between.
Neil GaimanThere was nowhere they could have gone and they went there anyway.
Neil GaimanI’ll tell you something,' he said, as if he had said nothing that day. 'You’re walking on gallows ground, and there’s a rope around your neck and a raven-bird on each shoulder waiting for your eyes, and the gallows tree has deep roots, for it stretches from heaven to hell, and our world is only the branch from which the rope is swinging.
Neil GaimanIt was the size of an ox, of a bull elephant, of a lifetime. It stared at them, and it paused for a hundred years, which transpired in a dozen heartbeats.
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