Careful What You Hunt, Lest You Catch

She Still Had Her Bad Days, No Question, When The Black Dog Of Depression Sniffed Her Out And Settled Its Crushing Weight On Her Chest And Breathed Its Pungent Dog Breath In Her Face. On Those Days She Called In Sick To The It Shop Where, Most Days, She Untangled Tangled Networks For A Song. On Those Days She Pulled Down The Shades And Ran Dark For Twelve Or Twenty-four Or Seventy-two Hours, However Long It Took For The Black Dog To Go On Home To Its Dark Master.

I Never Thought About Doing A Sequel When I Was Actually Writing 'the Magicians.' I Only Ever Considered It A Standalone.

You Don’t Learn About Yourself By Being Alone, You Learn About Yourself From Other People.

Careful What You Hunt, Lest You Catch It.

The Novel Is A Highly Corrupt Medium, After All - In The End The Vast Majority Of Them Simply Aren't That Great, And Are Destined To Be Forgotten.