My Books Are About Killing God.

If You Want To Write Anything That Works, You Have To Go With The Grain Of Your Talent, Not Against It. If Your Talent Is Inert And Sullen In The Face Of Business Or Politics...but Takes Fire At The Thought Of Ghosts And Vampires And Witches And Demons Then Feed The Flames, Feed The Flames.

...when All The Openings Were Closed, Then The Worlds Would All Be Restored To Their Proper Relations With One Another, Lyra’s Oxford And Will’s Would Lie Over Each Other Again, Like Transparent Images On Two Sheets Of Film Being Moved Closer And Closer Until They Merged–although They Would Never Truly Touch.

The Moment In The Account Of Adam And Eve In The Book Of Genesis Is When They Realize They're Naked And Try And Cover Themselves With Fig Leaves. That Seemed To Me A Perfect Allegory Of What Happened In The 20th Century With Regard To Literary Modernism. Literary Modernism Grew Out Of A Sense That, “oh My God! I'm Telling A Story! Oh, That Can't Be The Case, Because I'm A Clever Person. I'm A Literary Person! What Am I Going To Do To Distinguish Myself?...a Lot Of Modernism Does Seem To Come Out Of A Fear Of Being Thought An Ordinary Storyteller.

Literary Modernism Kind Of Grew Out Of A Sense That, “oh My God! I’m Telling A Story! Oh, That Can’t Be The Case, Because I’m A Clever Person. I’m A Literary Person! What Am I Going To Do To Distinguish Myself? I Know! I’ll Write Ulysses.”

The State Of Mind Which I Put Myself When I Tell A Story Is One In Which Superstition Flourishes Very Easily. And I Welcome That Because It Helps Me.