Adult stories never made sense, and they were so slow to start. They made me feel like there were secrets, masonic, mythic secrets, to adulthood. Why didn’t adults want to read about Narnia, about secret islands and smugglers and dangerous fairies?
Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via quotasia)
She was the storm, she was the lightning, she was the adult world with all its power and all its secrets and all its foolish casual cruelty.
Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via quotasia)
Adults follow paths. Children explore. Adults are content to walk the same way, hundreds of times, or thousands; perhaps it never occurs to adults to step off the paths, to creep beneath rhododendrons, to find the spaces between fences.
Neil Gaiman; The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via aliceenwonderland)
Nothing’s ever the same. Be it a second later or a hundred years. It’s always churning and roiling. And people change as much as oceans.
The Ocean At the End of the Lane - Neil Gaiman (via wecountrygirlscansurvive)
" “So you used to know everything?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Everybody did. I told you. It’s nothing special, knowing how things work. And you really do have to give it all up if you want to play.”
“To play what?”
“This,” she said. She waved at the house and the sky and the impossible full moon and the skeins and shawls and clusters of bright stars
Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via fasterthantrees)
I have dreamed of that song, of the strange words to that simple rhyme-song, and on several occasions I have understood what she was saying, in my dreams. In those dreams I spoke that language, too, the first language, and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. In my dream, it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick of everything. In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly; once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, "Be whole." and they would become whole, not be broken people, not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping.
Nobody actually looks like what they really are on the inside. You don’t. I don’t. People are much more complicated than that. It’s true of everybody.
Neil Gaiman, the Ocean at the End of the Lane (via countingabelards)
I like things to be story-shaped. Reality, however, is not story-shaped, and the eruptions of the odd into our lives are not story-shaped either. They do not end in entirely satisfactory ways.
Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman (via check-your-pockets-chimney-child)
He had read books, newspapers, and magazines. He knew…you sometimes met bad people who did bad things to you; but he had also read fairy tales, so he knew that there were kind people out there, side by side with the monsters.
Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman (via check-your-pockets-chimney-child)
aseaofquotes:

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

aseaofquotes:

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

Everybody has a secret world inside of them. I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody — no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. Inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds… Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe.
Neil Gaiman (via pollgold)
There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.
 Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman (via deepdownthe0cean)
Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.
Neil Gaiman, American Gods (via sann-lykke)