His Dreams Had Always Been

Novelist Time Is Reptile Time; Novelists Tend To Be Ruminant And Brooding, Nursers Of Ancient Grievances, Second-guessers, Tuesday Afternoon Quarterbacks, Retrospectators, Endlessly, Like Slumping Hitters, Studying The Film Of Their Old Whiffs.

To Me, Clark Kent In A Phone Booth And Houdini In A Packing Crate, They Were One And The Same Thing," He Would Learnedly Expound At Wondercon Or Angoulême Or To The Editor Of The Comics Journal . "you Weren't The Same Person When You Came Out As When You Went In.

He Looked So Profoundly Disappointed In Me That I Wondered For A Moment If He Was Someone I Knew.

I Don't Do A Lot Of Foisting, Because When It Comes To Books I Don't Really Like To Be Foisted Upon.

Miracles Prove Nothing Except To Those Whose Faith Is Bought Very Cheap, Sir.