"And she wrapped her slimy body around his, and she whispered his name into his ear. And he screams, "Kill me, for God's sake, just get it over with." But she licks her lips with a long worm tongue, and she shakes her head. "A meal this good must never be hurried," she says. "Just hold still, boy, and let me enjoy myself." And she takes her first, gentle bite from his cheek with her sharp, sharp teeth..."

"I am the mother to Odin's stallion, Sleipnir. I am the father of Fenrir sun-eater and of Hel half-rotted and of Jormungund the world-serpent. I am Loki Scar-Lip, Loki Skywalker, Loki Giant's Child, Loki Lie-Smith. I am Loki, who is fire and wit and hate. I am Loki. And I will be under an obligation to no one."

"Do you know your tragedy, Carla? ... It's that, for all your goodwill, for all your willingness to help, you never knew what any of this was all about. What was going on. You don't know how it ends. And you'll never get to find out."

"There is a madness needed to touch the gods, yes, this is true. Few mortals possess it, the willingness to step away from the protection of sanity. To walk into the wild woods of madness..."

"You don't have to believe in God. But what about gods? Eh? The plurality of powers and dominions. The lords and ladies of field and thorn, of asphalt and sewer, gods of telephone and whore, gods of hospital and car-crash?"

"I was tttt-told to give you a message." "Oh yeah? Who's the message from?" "Your gggggg-grandmother. She said she had a message for you. She said it was important." "My grandmother is dead, Zelda." "I know. She said that. She said she was dead."

"If you go looking for the Ladies... well, I don't know that that's such a good idea. You might find them."

"They never liked us, did they?" "Gods don't 'like'. They love and they hate and they ignore..."

"The gods we prayed to when we were young used up their time so long ago. They cannot answer anymore."

"It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But the half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor."

"I didn't say it was my fault. I said it was my responsibility. I know the difference."

"I'm on my way to that castle. It's owned by a shape-changing ogre. I intend to wager the silver collar around my neck that the ogre cannot change itself into three things that I shall name for it." "Will the third shape be a mouse?" "Of course." "But... don't they ever learn?" "They can't. They're part of the story, just as I am."

"You didn't join the rebellion, not because you felt I was wrong, but because you were too damned scared. What would you have done, had I won? Told me that you'd always supported me ideologically? That you were secretly cheering me on the whole time?"

"Been there, Remiel. Done that. Wore the tee-shirt, ate the burger, bought the original cast album, choreographed the legions of the damned and orchestrated the screaming..."

"It was then that Delirium noticed that she had absent-mindedly transformed into a hundred and eleven perfect, tiny multicoloured fish. Each fish sang a different song."

"There's a downstairs in everybody. That's where we live."

"What's he got?" "A feather. Looks like a phoenix's." "They're lucky." "For whom?"

"I can remember the title, author, and location of every book in this library, Matthew. Every book that's ever been dreamed. Every book that's ever been imagined. Every book that's ever been lost. Millions upon millions of them. That's what I remember. It's my job. Other things... I forget sometimes."

"There are no gryphons, no wyverns, no winged horses in the waking world, raven. Not anymore. But we are here..."

"It's never what they want, and if we give them what they think they want, they like it less than ever."

"I'm Matthew. I'm the raven. Not a raven—the raven. That's one of the weird things about the Dreaming—it's a kind of one-raven-at-a-time sort of place."

"She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don't know. She probably didn't even know I was there. But I'll always love her. All my life."

"It was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they'll still love you, because they know you."

"The words said over my father's body were hollow and dumb, and I couldn't find it in me to cry, not then. I knew I was watching the real thing here. There was true grief in each step they took across the sky, and they shouldered the casket as if they were shouldering the weight of the world."

"So, like everyone else, I was staring out of one of the windows of the inn at the end of the words. Worlds. I meant worlds."

"When a world ends, there's always something left over. A story, perhaps, or a vision, or a hope. This inn is a refuge, after the lights go out. For a while."

"We of Faerie are of the wild magic. We are not creatures of spells and grimoires. We are spells, and we are written of in grimoires."

"If the city was dreaming," he told me, "then the city is asleep. And I do not fear cities sleeping, stretched out unconscious around their rivers and estuaries, like cats in the moonlight. Sleeping cities are tame and harmless things. What I fear," he said, "is that one day the cities will waken. That one day the cities will rise."

"If a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams. That is where I believe we have come. We are in the dreams of the city. That's why certain places hover on the brink of recognition; why we almost know where we are."

"What's going on?" "We're telling stories. You just missed a really good one about a man who won November 1937 in a poker game."

"You need help, matey. You and that there young lady. That red stuff, that's blood that is. Meant to be on the inside, it is. Bad sign if it's not on the inside, that's what I says."

"I don't really like driving in snow. There's something about the motion of the falling snowflakes that hurts my eye, throws my sense of balance all to hell. It's like tumbling into a field of stars."

"You know, I swore an oath once. I swore I would make him spill family blood. And now he has. I should be triumphant." "It was not your doing." "True. But it was what I wanted." "So. Are you happy?" "No. I'm scared." "So am I."

"You cannot seek Destruction and return unscathed." "Delirium has." "Delirium has been scathed enough in her time."

"What's done can't be undone. Or very rarely. And definitely not this time."

"Even our existences are brief and bounded. None of us will last longer than this version of the universe." "Except our sister." "So we suppose."

"The Endless? The Endless are merely patterns. The Endless are ideas. The Endless are wave functions. The Endless are repeating motifs. The Endless are echoes of darkness, and nothing more. We have no right to play with their lives, to order their dreams and their desires."

"I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend... I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend."

"Destruction did not cease with my abandonment of my realm, no more than people would cease to dream should you abandon yours. Perhaps it's more uncontrolled, wilder. Perhaps not. But it's no longer anyone's responsibility."

"Do you know why I stopped being Delight, my brother? I do. There are things not in your book. There are paths outside this garden. You would do well to remember that."

"The garden of Destiny. Look behind you: shadow-plays of memory are forever being enacted, on paths you walked too long ago."

"I'm going to dance now, I'm afraid."

"I know how gods begin, Roger. We start as dreams. Then we walk out of dreams into the land. We are worshipped and loved, and take power to ourselves. And then one day there's no one left to worship us. And in the end, each little god and goddess takes its last journey back into dreams... and what comes after, not even we know."

"Listen. I couldn't help overhearing you earlier. You said destiny was blind. Well, didn't you mean love? It's "love is blind". That's the saying, isn't it?"

"Um. What's the name of the word for things not being the same always? You know, I'm sure there is one. Isn't there? ... There must be a word for it... the thing that lets you know time is happening. Is there a word?" "Change."

"So what I want to know is, when I'm asleep, do I really remember how to fly? And forget how when I wake up? Or am I just dreaming I can fly?" "When you dream, sometimes you remember. When you wake, you always forget." "But that's not fair..." "No."

"When I dream, sometimes I remember how to fly. You just lift one leg, then you lift the other leg, and you're not standing on anything, and you can fly."

"That person. Farrel-mond. What was he?" "He used to be a god. When we last met, in Babylon, his sacrifices were dwindling, and many of his shrines had already been abandoned. I merely suggested that he find another occupation." "Oh. I didn't know you could stop being a god." "You can stop being anything."

"You know, Barnabas, there are those who claim that for unquestioning respect and eternal devotion, all one needs is a dog." "Hey, schmuck, devotion you've got. Perjury isn't in the job description."

"What the hell would you know? You're a dog." "Did I ever say I wasn't?"