The Mountains Of Madness Have Many Little

He Was The Sort Of Person Who Stood On Mountaintops During Thunderstorms In Wet Copper Armour Shouting 'all The Gods Are Bastards.'

You Know How To Pray, Don’t You? Just Put Your Hands Together And Hope.

What Can The Harvest Hope For, If Not For The Care Of The Reaper Man?

There's That Lovely Thing For The First Month Or Two Of Writing A New Book: Ok, I Don't Know What That Character's Going To Do, But We'll Find Out Later. After About Three Or Four Months You Come To That Bit Where You've Got To Put Some Plot In Before It's Too Late, And You Have To Go Back And Start Inserting Plot, And, Ooh, I've Left Out The Literature, Ok, Lets Put Some In.

One Day A Tortoise Will Learn How To Fly.