To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due. ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 4: Season of Mists. (Vertigo; Gph edition, March 10, 1999) Originally published 1990. Advertisements
In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again.” — Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders. (William Morrow; First Edition edition, September 26, 2006)
You never forget. It must be somewhere inside you. Even if the brain has forgotten, perhaps the teeth remember. Or the fingers. — Neil Gaiman, from “A Lunar Labyrinth,” Trigger Warning: Short Fictions and Disturbances. ( William Morrow February 3, 2015)
Death is a capricious thing. – Neil Gaiman, The Sandman #13. “The Doll’s House, Part 4: Men of Good Fortune” (Vertigo March 1990)
Her kiss is the deep ocean. Her kiss is not the deep ocean. Her kiss is the grey sky. Her kiss is a blind alley. Her kiss is her touch is her breath is her fingers is what remains after the laughing is over. Her kis is the black dog that follows you in the… Continue reading Neil Gaiman
It is said that scattered through Despair’s domain are a multitude of tiny windows, hanging in the void. Each window looks out onto a different scene, being, in our world, a mirror. Sometimes you will look into a mirror and feel the eyes of Despair upon you, feel her hook catch and snag on your… Continue reading Neil Gaiman
What’s the name of the word for the precise moment when you realize that you’ve actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago? ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives. (Vertigo; Gph edition March 1, 1999) Originally published 1994.