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Faith Shall Save Your Soul From Death. Without Faith, Death Is A Drowning, The End Of Ends, And What Sane Man Wouldn't Fear That? But With Faith, Death Is Nothing Worse Than The End Of The Voyage We Call Life, And The Beginning Of An Eternal Voyage In A Company Of Our Loved Ones, With Griefs And Woes Smoothed Out, And Under The Capacity Of Our Creator.

-David Mitchell

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Faith Shall Save Your

David Mitchell

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Faith Shall Save Your Soul From Death. Without Faith, Death Is A Drowning, The End Of Ends, And What Sane Man Wouldn't Fear That? But With Faith, Death Is Nothing Worse Than The End Of The Voyage We Call Life, And The Beginning Of An Eternal Voyage In A Company Of Our Loved Ones, With Griefs And Woes Smoothed Out, And Under The Capacity Of Our Creator.

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Science Devises Ever Bloodier Means Of War Until Humanity's Powers Of Destruction Overcome Our Powers Of Creation And Our Civilisation Drives Itself To Extinction.

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Faith Shall Save Your Soul From Death. Without Faith, Death Is A Drowning, The End Of Ends, And What Sane Man Wouldn't Fear That? But With Faith, Death Is Nothing Worse Than The End Of The Voyage We Call Life, And The Beginning Of An Eternal Voyage In A Company Of Our Loved Ones, With Griefs And Woes Smoothed Out, And Under The Capacity Of Our Creator.

These Jokes The World Plays, They're Not Funny At All.

We Looked At Each Other For The Last Time; Nothing Is As Eloquent As Nothing.

Why Human Beings Despise What Is Beautiful And Good, And Seek To Destroy The Things They Need The Most

I Still Haven't Quite Got Used To Eating Live Fish.

Sometimes, Comics Will Make The Observation That It's Not Jokes That Are Funny, It's Characters That Are Funny. And Isn't That True! That's Why I Always Kill Jokes. I'm Terrible At Them, Because I Get The Joke Right, But I Can't Get The Character Right, And It Just Goes Down Like A Lead Balloon.

If You’re In Your Life, Chance. Viewed From The Outside, Like A Book You’re Reading, It’s Fate All The Way.

I Think All Writers Of My Age Who Are Brought Up On Films Probably By The Age Of 16 Have Seen Many More Films Than They Have Read Classics Of Literature. We Can't Help But Be Influenced By Film. Film Has Got Some Great Tricks That It's Taught Writers.

To Fool A Judge, Feign Fascination, But To Bamboozle The Whole Court, Feign Boredom.

If Your Words're True, They're Armed.

Time Is The Speed At Which The Past Decays.

Ive Never Had Cocaine. I Work In Showbusiness And No One Has Ever Offered Me Cocaine. Can You Believe That? It Makes Me Worry Im Not Always The Life And Soul Of The Party That I Feel Like In My Head.

Wars Are Never Cured, They Just Go Into Remission For A Few Years.

If Only,’ Shiroyama Dreams, ‘human Beings Were Not Masks Behind Masks Behind Masks. If Only This World Was A Clean Board Of Lines And Intersections. If Only Time Was A Sequence Of Considered Moves And Not A Chaos Of Slippages And Blunders.

Sometimes The Fluffy Bunny Of Incredulity Zooms Around The Bend So Rapidly That The Greyhound Of Language Is Left, Agog, In The Starting Cage.

True Knowledge Without Xperience Is Food Without Sustenance

I Have Always Unswervingly Held, That God, In Our Civilizing World, Manifests Himself Not In The Miracles Of Biblical Age, But In Progress. It Is Progress That Leads Humanity Up The Ladder Towards The God-head. No Jacob's Ladder This, No, But Rather Civilization's Ladder, If You Will.

The Revelation Of Sonmi 451 To Be Is To Be Perceived, And So To Know Thyself Is Only Possible Through The Eyes Of The Other. The Nature Of Our Immortal Lives Is In The Consequences Of Our Words And Deeds, That Go On And Are Pushing Themselves Throughout All Time. - Our Lives Are Not Our Own. From Womb To Tomb, We Are Bound To Others, Past And Present, And By Each Crime And Every Kindness, We Birth Our Future.

By Each Crime And Every Kindness, We Birth Our Future.

The Truth Of A Myth...is Not In Its Words But Its Patterns.

Any Adaptation Is A Translation, And There Is Such A Thing As An Unreadably Faithful Translation; And I Believe A Degree Of Reinterpretatio N For The New Language May Be Not Only Inevitable But Desirable.

I Believe Death Is Only A Door. One Closes, And Another Opens. If I Were To Imagine Heaven, I Would Imagine A Door Opening. And He Would Be Waiting For Me There.

The Human World Is Made Of Stories, Not People. The People The Stories Use To Tell Themselves Are Not To Be Blamed

I'm Not From A Milieu Where High-register Language Or Philosophical Ideas Were Welcome.

Probably" Is A Word With An Emergency Ejector Seat.

How Lazily "xperts" Dismiss What They Fail To Understand!

Eva. Every Day I've Climbed Up The Belfry Chanting A Lucky Chant At One Syllable Per Beat, "to-day-to-day-let-her-be-here-to-day-to-day.

As For Reading, I Wish I Had A Magic Door To A Library Where I Could Go In, Read For Days And Days, And Come Back In The Same Minute I Left. I'm Still Looking For The Door.

Our Lives Are Not Our Own. We Are Bound To Others, Past And Present, And By Each Crime And Every Kindness, We Birth Our Future.

Memories Are Their Own Descendents Masquerading As The Ancestors Of The Present.

Many Children Are Natural Fantasists, I Think, Perhaps Because Their Imaginations Have Yet To Be Clobbered Into Submission By Experience.

Hate Eats The Hater The Way Ogres Eat Little Boys.

I Pass Through Many Me's In The Course Of My Day, Each One Selfish With His Time. The Lying-in-bed Me And The Enjoying-the-hot-shower Me Are Particularly Selfish. The Late Me Loathes The Pair Of Them.

I Think It's Natural For Youth To Be Drawn To Newness: The World Is Still New For Them.

'y' Is About The Weakest Letter Of All. 'y' Can't Make Up Its Mind If It's A Vowel Or A Consonant, Can It?

Whoever Opined "money Can't Buy You Happiness" Obviously Had Far Too Much Of The Stuff.

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I Hear My Father-in-law's Response..."naïve, Dreaming Adam. He Who Would Do Battle With The Many-headed Hydra Of Human Nature Must Pay A World Of Pain & His Family Must Pay It Along With Him! & Only As You Gasp Your Dying Breath Shall You Understand, Your Life Amounted To No More Than One Drop In A Limitless Ocean!" Yet What Is Any Ocean But A Multitude Of Drops?

Time Is What Stops History Happening At Once; Time Is The Speed At Which The Past Disappears.

How Vulgar, This Hankering After Immortality, How Vain, How False. Composers Are Merely Scribblers Of Cave Paintings. One Writes Music Because Winter Is Eternal And Because, If One Didn't, The Wolves And Blizzards Would Be At One's Throat All The Sooner.

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Good Moods’re As Fragile As Eggs...bad Moods’re As Fragile As Bricks.

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Reality Is The Page. Life Is The Word.

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Pain Is Strong, Aye - But Friends' Eyes, More Strong." I Told Him That He Knows Next To Nothing About Me & I Know Nothing About Him. He Jabbed At His Eyes & Jabbed At Mine, As If That Single Gesture Were Ample Explanation.

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Who Was Blowing On The Nape Of My Neck?

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Strip Back The Beliefs Pasted On By Governesses, Schools, And States, You Find Indelible Truths At One's Core.

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Times Are You Say A Person's B'liefs Ain't True, They Think You're Sayin' Their Lifes Ain't True An' Their Truth Ain't True.

There's A Link Between Bigotry And Bad Spelling.

Implausible Truth Can Serve One Better Than Plausible Fiction

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The Song Instantly Insisted It'd Never Existed.

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Only Professional Diplomats, Inveterate Idiots And Women View Diplomacy As A Long-term Substitute For War.

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Clocks In Disagreement Are Worse Than No Clock At All.

I Think The Story Is The Most Ancient Form Of Human Entertainment.

This World, He Thinks, Contains Just One Masterpiece, And That Is Itself.

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I Can't Bear Living In This Huge Beautiful World And Not Try To Imitate It As Best I Can.

False Modesty Can Be Worse Than Arrogance.

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The Human World Is Made Of Stories, Not People.

Maybe Then You Comprehend, Speaking One Language Only Is A Prison!

Foreign Language

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We Are Both Busy People, So Let's Cut The Small Talk.

Spent The Fortnight Gone In The Music Room Reworking My Year's Fragments Into A 'sextet For Overlapping Soloists': Piano, Clarinet, 'cello, Flute, Oboe, And Violin, Each In Its Own Language Of Key, Scale, And Color. In The First Set, Each Solo Is Interrupted By Its Successor; In The Second, Each Interruption Is Recontinued, In Order. Revolutionary Or Gimmicky? Shan't Know Until It's Finished, And By Then It'll Be Too Late.

Try This For Deviancy: Fabricants Are Mirrors Held Up To Purebloods' Conscience; What Purebloods See Reflected There Sickens Them. So They Blame You For Holding The Mirror." I Hid My Shock By Asking When Purebloods Might Blame Themselves. Mephi Replied, "history Suggests, Not Until They Are Made To.

War's An Auction Where Whoever Can Pay The Most In Damage And Still Be Standing Wins.

The Spirit Was Willing But The Flesh Was Weak.

Why Fight The 'natural' (oh, Weaselly Word!) Order Of Things? Why? Because Of This--one Fine Day, A Purely Predatory World Shall Consume Itself. In An Individual, Selfishness Uglifies The Soul; For The Human Species, Selfishness Is Extinction.

I Lost My Balance When The Train Pulled Away, But A Human Crumple Zone Buffered My Fall. We Stayed Like That, Half Fallen. Diagonal People.

... In A Cycle As Old As Tribalism, Ignorance Of The Other Engenders Fear; Fear Engenders Hatred; Hatred Engenders Violence; Violence Engenders Further Violence Until The Only "rights", The Only Law, Are Whatever Is Willed By The Most Powerful.

Freedom!- Is The Fatuous Jingle Of Our Civilization, But Only Those Deprived Of It Have The Barest Inkling Re: What The Stuff Actually Is.

I'm Not A Great Deep Political Thinker.

Words Are What You Fight With But What You Fight About Is Whether Or Not You're Afraid Of Them.

I Think Words Operate Like Musical Notes That The Eyeball Hears.

Have You Noticed," Said John, "how Countries Call Theirs 'sovereign Nuclear Deterrents,' But Call The Other Countries' Ones 'weapons Of Mass Destruction'?

Mass Destruction

It's A Small World. It Keeps Recrossing Itself.

Love's Pure Free Joy When It Works, But When It Goes Bad You Pay For The Good Hours At Loan-shark Prices.

Don't Bemoan Your Misspent Life Quite Yet. Forgive Me For Flaunting My Experience, But You Have No Conception Of What A Misspent Life Constitutes.

Teachers're Always Using That "in Your Own Words." I Hate That. Authors Knit Their Sentences Tight. It's Their Job. Why Make Us Unpick Them, Just To Put It Back Together More Shonkily? How're You S'posed To Say Kapellmeister If You Can't Say Kapellmeister?

Peace, Though Beloved Of Our Lord, Is A Cardinal Virtue Only If Your Neighbors Share Your Conscience.

Anticipating The End Of The World Is Humanity's Oldest Passtime

End Of The World

Travel Far Enough, You Meet Yourself.

I Really Wish They Hadn't Made The Set Out Of Asbestos.

It's True That Stammerers Can Become More Adept At Sentence Construction.

I'm A Novelist, That's How I Make My Livelihood, And I Concentrate On The Novels.

The Earth's A Door If You Press Your Ear Against It.

Music’s A Wood You Walk Through.

Strip Back The Beliefs Pasted On By Governesses, Schools, And States, You Find Indelible Truths At One's Core. Rome'll Decline And Fall Again, Cortés'll Lay Tenochtitlán To Waste Again, And Later, Ewing Will Sail Again, Adrian'll Be Blown To Pieces Again, You And I'll Sleep Under The Corsican Stars Again, I'll Come To Bruges Again, Fall In And Out Of Love With Eva Again, You'll Read This Letter Again, The Sun'll Grow Cold Again. Nietzsche's Gramophone Record. When It Ends, The Old One Plays It Again, For An Eternity Of Eternities.

…and There, In The Background, The Sky’s Sediment Had Sunk To A Place Where All The Woe Of The Words ‘i Am’ Dissolved Into Blue Peace. He Said It. ‘the Ocean.

The Better Organized The State, The Duller Its Humanity.

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Probably In A Parallel Universe Not Far From Here, I'm Working For Nintendo.

Parallel Universe

Why Ask A Question Whose Answer Would Demand Ten More Questions?

When Insolvent, Pack Minimally, With A Valise Tough Enough To Be Thrown Onto A London Pavement From A First- Or Second-floor Window. Insist On Hotel Rooms No Higher.

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Don't Remember Summer Even Saying Goodbye.

The Soul Is A Verb." He Impales A Lit Candle On A Spike. "not A Noun.

Act', Implores The Ghost Of Future Regret. 'i Shan't Give You Another Chance'. [and So Jacob Does] 'damned Fool,' Groans The Demon Of Present Regret. 'what Have You Done?

A Half-read Book Is A Half-finished Love Affair.

I Elbowed My Way Into The Grubby Café, Bought A Pie That Tasted Of Shoe Polish And A Pot Of Tea With Cork Crumbs Floating In It, And Eavesdropped On A Pair Of Shetland Pony Breeders. Despondency Makes One Hanker After Lives One Never Led. Why Have You Given Your Life To Books, Tc? Dull, Dull, Dull! The Memoirs Are Bad Enough, But All That Ruddy Fiction! Hero Goes On A Journey, Stranger Comes To Town, Somebody Wants Something, They Get It Or They Don't, Will Is Pitted Against Will. "admire Me, For I Am A Metaphor.

Autumn Is Leaving Its Mellowness Behind For Its Spiky, Rotted Stage. Don't Remember Summer Even Saying Goodbye.

The Learnin' Mind Is The Livin' Mind, Meronym Said, An Any Sort O'smart Is Truesome Smart, Old Smart Or New High Smart Or Low.

If You Show Someone Something You've Written, You Give Them A Sharpened Stake, Lie Down In Your Coffin, And Say, ‘when You’re Ready’.

...it’s Not Just The Person Who Fills A House, It’s Their I’ll Be Back Later!s, Their Toothbrushes And Unused Hats And Coats, Their Belongingnesses.

Missing Someone

An Idler And A Sluggard Are As Different As A Gourmand And A Glutton.

We Are Only What We Know, And I Wished To Be So Much More Than I Was, Sorely.

The Her That Lived In Her Looked Out Through Her Eyes, Through My Eyes, And At The Me That Lives In Me.

Through My Eyes

I’m Scared Of The Future. I’m Scared Of The Past. I’m Nervous At The Moment.

All Revolutions Are The Sheerest Fantasy Until They Happen; Then They Become Historical Inevitabilities.

One's Ribs Shouldn't Be Prison Bars.

My Life Amounts To No More Than One Drop In A Limitless Ocean. Yet What Is Any Ocean, But A Multitude Of Drops?

I Added 'writers' To My List Of People Not To Trust. They Make Everything Up.

A Weapon Men Use Against Women Is The Refusal To Take Them Seriously.

What Is "poker"? A Card Game Where Abler Liars Take Money Off Less Able Liars.

Dreams Are All I Have Ever Truly Owned.

What Sparks Wars? The Will To Power, The Backbone Of Human Nature. The Threat Of Violence, The Fear Of Violence, Or Actual Violence, Is The Instrument Of This Dreadful Will. You Can See The Will To Power In Bedrooms, Kitchens, Factories, Unions And The Borders Of States. Listen To This And Remember It. The Nation State Is Merely Human Nature Inflated To Monstrous Proportions. Qed, Nations Are Entities Whose Laws Are Written By Violence. Thus It Ever Was, So Ever Shall It Be.

. . .my Dreams Are The Single Unpredictable Factor In My Zoned Days And Nights. Nobody Allots Them, Or Censors Them. Dreams Are All I Have Ever Truly Owned.

For Me, Novels Coalesce Into Being, Rather Than Arrive Fully Formed.

If Swans Weren't Real Myths'd Make Up.

I Recently Bought A Cat, But Took It Back A Day Later Because Our Personalities Clashed.

Power, Time, Gravity, Love. The Forces That Really Kick Ass Are All Invisible.

Assured Her I've Never Loved Anyone Except Myself And Have No Intention Of Starting Now.

Your Turn Has Come To Sift Through The Dreck Of Humanity For Rare Specks Of Originality

The Music Provokes A Sharp Longing The Music Soothes.

Torturous Advances Won Over Generations Can Be Lost By A Single Stroke Of A Myopic President's Pen Or A Vainglorious General's Sword.

Once Any Tyranny Becomes Accepted As Ordinary, Its Victory Is Assured.

As Many Truths As Men. Occasionally, I Glimpse A Truer Truth, Hiding In Imperfect Simulacrums Of Itself, But As I Approach, It Bestirs Itself & Moves Deeper Into The Thorny Swamp Of Dissent.

As An Experienced Editor, I Disapprove Of Flashbacks, Foreshadowings, And Tricksy Devices; They Belong In The 1980s With M.a.s In Postmodernism And Chaos Theory.

The Rain's Innumerable Hooves Spatter On The Streets And Roofs.

What Is Any Ocean But A Multitude Of Drops?

Drops In The Ocean

- This Isn't An Interrogation Or A Trail. Your Version Of The Truth Is The Only Thing That Matters. -truth Is Singular. It's 'versions' Are Mistruths.

What Do I Miss? Second-hand Bookshops Where I Can Find Things I Had No Idea I Wanted. Abebooks Helps, But It Doesn't Have That Smell.

... But It Is Attitude, Not Years, That Condemns One To The Ranks Of The Undead, Or Else Proffers Salvation. In The Domain Of The Young There Dwells Many An Undead Soul. They Rush About So, Their Inner Putrefaction Is Concealed For A Few Decades, That Is All.

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