The Endless? The Endless are merely patterns. The Endless are ideas. The Endless are wave functions. The Endless are repeating motifs. The Endless are echoes of darkness, and nothing more. We have no right to play with their lives, to order their dreams and their desires.
Destruction, in SANDMAN #48: "Brief Lives:8"
"And even our existences are brief and bounded. None of us will last longer than this version of the universe."
"Except our sister."
"So we suppose."
Destruction, Delirium, and Dream in SANDMAN #48: "Brief Lives:8"
Desire was right. Also untrustworthy, acerbic, dangerous, and cruel. But right. You would have been better off leaving well enough alone.
Destruction, in SANDMAN #48: "Brief Lives:8"
Still, what's done can't be undone. Or very rarely. And definitely not this time.
Destruction, in SANDMAN #48: "Brief Lives:8"
Farewells -- Answered prayers -- The flowers of romance -- Journey's end -- The gates of horn -- Things unlooked for -- Brief lives.
Title of SANDMAN #49: "Brief Lives:9"
I am so scared. It's strange. For many thousand years I have prayed for death. I have prayed to all the gods for peace and relief and... I have prayed for an ending.
Orpheus, in SANDMAN #49: "Brief Lives:9"
"You cannot seek Destruction and return unscathed."
"Delirium has."
"Delirium has been scathed enough in her time."
Despair and Desire, in SANDMAN #49: "Brief Lives:9"
And from the horns of the youngest, he carved a gate that he reserved for true dreams. This because he had some little regard for her, and had, perhaps, in some small measure, regretted the course of action he had found necessary. But all this was long ago; and the truth of it all has not ever been told on this world.
From SANDMAN #49: "Brief Lives:9"
At rest in the temple of its body, Desire, who would be darkly amused to hear itself described as an angel, floats in an eyeball larger than a cathedral, and remembers its lost brother in its own way. Desire's thoughts are private. It holds a small red flower, very tightly.
From SANDMAN #49: "Brief Lives:9"
Andros takes the linen-wrapped bundle from his son. We will put him to rest, thinks Andros Rhodocanakis, beneath the cherry tree, and perhaps his spirit is in Elysium, with his beloved Eurydice. And perhaps his spirit has returned to darkness, or to nothing... And perhaps he is at rest.
Orpheus's burial, in SANDMAN #49: "Brief Lives:9"
I don't really like driving in snow. There's something about the motion of the falling snowflakes that hurts my eyes, throwing my sense of balance all to hell. It's like tumbling into a field of stars.
Brant's thoughts on driving, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
Matey, if you asks my opinion, a-sitting there in the snow is not eggzackerly the smartest thingie as you could be a-doing of, all things considerable.
A passing hedgehog offers some advice, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
You need help, matey. You and that there young lady. That red stuff, that's blood that is. Meant to be on the inside, it is. Bad sign if it's not on the inside, that's what I says.
Medical advice from a hedgehog, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
Up the lane aways is the Inn. You just have to be sure it's there, though. If you aren't sure, then fizzlywinks, it's only goin' to be fireflies and treeses.
Giving directions, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
"What's going on?"
"We're telling stories. You just missed a really good one about a man who won November 1937 in a poker game."
Brant and Charlene, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
In the subway train, in the morning, he would read a newspaper, and wonder what would happen were the subway carriage to be transported to a distant planet: how long would it take before the passengers began to speak, one to another; who would make love to whom; who would be eaten should they run out of food. He felt vaguely ashamed of these daydreams.
Robert's daily life, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
A carving on a wall above a door on a condemned house; a bright flash of sunlight reflecting off the railings of a park, making them serried spears to guard the green grass and running children; a gravestone in a churchyard, eroded by wind and rain and time until the words on the stone had been lost but the mosses and lichens still spelled out letters from forgotten alphabets... all these sights, and many others, he treasured and collected.
Robert's lunchtime walks, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
The roads mixed him up, turned him around. Here, he would pass a cathedral or museum, there, a skyscraper or a fountain -- always hauntingly familiar. But he never passed the same landmark twice, could never find the road to return him to the landmark again.
Wandering a city of dreams, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams. That is where I believe we have come. We are in the dreams of the city. That's why certain places hover on the brink of recognition; why we almost know where we are.
The old man's theory, in SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
"If the city was dreaming," he told me, "then the city is asleep. And I do not fear cities sleeping, stretched out unconscious around their rivers and estuaries, like cats in the moonlight. Sleeping cities are tame and harmless things. What I fear," he said, "is that one day he cities will waken. That one day the cities will rise."
From SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
I like to believe it was only the cold that made me shiver, only a strand of fog in my throat that caused me to catch my breath.
Robert walked away across the moor and I never saw him again. Since that time I have walked with less comfort in cities.
From SANDMAN #51: "A Tale of Two Cities"
"So... where are you from?"
"Seattle. You?"
"The Necropolis Litharge."
Bathroom conversation, in SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
I lack the ability to embellish. Thus you would perforce needs content all yourselves, one and all, with a rather sparse and uninteresting narrative.
Cluracan warms up, in SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
"Sometimes I wish that my ambassador was not quite so... let me see. Feckless?"
"You reign over a feckless dominion, My Lady."
Queen Titania and Cluracan, in SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
Well, you are the best I have, Cluracan, and to say that is to say little indeed.
Queen Titania, in SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
We of Faerie are of the wild magic. We are not creatures of spells and grimoires. We are spells, and we are written of in grimoires.
From SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
Cluracan, it is one to me whether you live or die. It is not one to your sister, and she serves me well and faithfully. I would not see her needlessly distressed.
Dream, in SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
"Was that the truth, Cluracan?"
"All of it except the sword-fight with the palace guard, which I threw in to add verisimilitude, excitement, and local color to an otherwise bald and insipid narrative."
The innkeeper and Cluracan, in SANDMAN #52: "Cluracan's Tale"
I stood there sweating with the line in my hands, and the sun broke above the horizon, and the gulls mewed and the grey sea turned to sapphire: and I knew this would be a good voyage.
The Sea Witch sets sail, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
"You're a romantic."
"Why be a sailor if you're not?"
First mate Canby and Jim, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
"Why does the water glow like that?"
"The dream magic of the sea."
"Phosphorescent algae."
One question, two answers, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
Some of it's the voice, and some of it's the hands, and a lot of it's learning to see what you see and not what you think you see, if that makes any sense.
Hob Gadling, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
"How old are you, sir?"
"Old enough to have learned to keep my mouth shut about seeing a bloody great snake in the middle of the ocean."
Jim and Hob Gadling, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
Given time, you'll spin a yarn of what we saw in the ocean. Given time I'll tell the tale of the handsome cabin boy. But given enough time and the right audience, the darkest of secrets scum over into mere curiosities.
Hob Gadling, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
But I'm getting too old for the trick, which troubles me, for the sea is in my blood like a fever and I don't know how I can leave.
Jim's envoi, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
And when, some day soon, I forsake the sea -- like a sailor leaving his lady-love on the shore -- I shall take another name to me and build another life.
But -- for now -- you can call me Jim.
Jim's envoi, in SANDMAN #53: "Hob's Leviathan"
My people have, of old, divided the world into two kinds of people: hedgehogs and foxes. Hedgehogs know one big thing. Foxes know lots of little things.
The storyteller paraphrases Isaiah Berlin, in SANDMAN #54: "The Golden Boy"
In the White House is a tiger skin rug, shot and killed many years ago by Teddy Roosevelt. The feet of the great walk over that tiger skin each day. It listens to policy being formed and secrets being spoken. Now do you think that tiger would rather be dead and in the seat of power, or alive, and walking the jungle of India, sniffing the wind for the scent of game?
Prez Rickard, in SANDMAN #54: "The Golden Boy"
Some people said the woman who killed his Kathy returned to finish off the task she had begun years before. And these people knew that the killer had in her turn been executed. But still, they said, it was her.
From SANDMAN #54: "The Golden Boy"
"So what are you? God? Or the Devil?"
"I'm just Boss Smiley. I run your world."
"So that girl was right. You're not the watchmaker."
"If only."
Prez Rickard and Boss Smiley, in SANDMAN #54: "The Golden Boy"
Firstly, earth burial or interment. Variants are boxed, wrapped or naked, embalmed or otherwise; lying, seated or standing; grave, sepulchre, vault or cairn.
Part one of Petrefax's answer, in SANDMAN #55: "Cerements"
Secondly, disposal through fire. Variants: clothed, boxed, pyre, vessel, or ship. Also there are different procedures that can be adopted to dispose of the ashes.
Part two of Petrefax's answer, in SANDMAN #55: "Cerements"