“For here, inside the crypt, was where he truly lived. Which is to say, for well over twenty hours a day in total darkness and in total silence and in total immobility, he sat on his horse blanket at the end of the stony corridor, his back resting on the rock slide, his shoulders wedged between the rocks and enjoyed himself.”

“Being in love is totally punk rock.”

“Packard wrestles off his jacket and shirt. He ignores me, leaning far over to the side, reaching down into the rocks. He comes back with a handful of slime, which he swipes across his chest, smearing it over the solid planes of his muscles. “What the hell are you doing?”“Interfering with his concentration. Vulnerability and a lack of logic will disturb him. And the bricks exert a pull…”“Hold up!” he calls out. “I have to tell you something! Midcity is purchasing the Great Wall of China!” What? Has he gone insane? “Midcity is importing the wall, brick by brick, right now!”He strides, totally unprotected, toward where the Brick Slinger hides. “They’re bringing it here on a boat, in its raw brick form, to be deposited in the Maverick’s stadium!”

“You're perfect,aren't you?""I am a werewolf," he says between bites. He bends his head."That just gives you a totally good excuse for your pathetic temper."He wiggles his eyebrows. "True.”

“He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating - and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake had lived in the wide world outside.”

“I don't believe in total freedom for the artist. Left on his own, free to do anything he likes, the artist ends up doing nothing at all. If there's one thing that's dangerous for an artist, it's precisely this question of total freedom, waiting for inspiration and all the rest of it.”