World needs more angels, even plywood ones.
The dream knows what they are waiting for, even if they don’t themselves. The end of everything. The moment when it reveals its miracle boy and all the eyes will look and their seeing will be horror and glory and wonder and it will pierce the skin ...
Explosions and fighting robots and shit. What’s that got to do with the heart?
People don’t want novelty – they want the reassurance of familiarity. No-one wants to be challenged, no-one wants to have their minds blown. There is an insatiable appetite for affirmation.
Florrie smiles with unmoderated joy, because she can't see that most people bank their happiness like it's something you might run out of
He always thought a muse should be sex on legs.
The original stories are mined out, and all that’s left is fool’s gold.
