Neil Gaiman

All we have to believe with is our senses, the tools we use to perceive the world: our sight, our touch, our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted. And even if we do not believe, then still we cannot travel in any other way than the road our senses show us; and we must walk that road to the end.

“Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? Funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one, eh?”

He’d been an angel once. He hadn’t meant to Fall. He’d just hung around with the wrong people.

The angel turned to Crowley.
“Really, my dear,” he murmured.
“Sorry,” said Crowley. “I was forgetting myself.”

“Don’t you try to tempt me,” said Aziraphale wretchedly. “I know you, you old serpent.”

There are accounts that, if we open our hearts to them, will cut us too deeply.

If he walked, he discovered, he did not have to think, and that was just the way he liked it; when he thought, his mind went to places he could not control, places that made him feel uncomfortable. Exhaustion was the best thing.

Fairy tales are more than true: not because

they tell us that dragons exist, but because

they tell us that dragons can be beaten.

—G. K. Chesterton

She was, as yet, unmarried, although she was very much in love

It was chilly that April, with the awkward changeability of English spring