Anansi Quotes & Sayings

Angry gets shit done. — Neil Gaiman

Now, Anansi stories, they have wit and trickery and wisdom. Now, all over the world, all of the people they aren't just thinking of hunting and being hunted anymore. Now they're starting to think their way out of problems
sometimes thinking their way into worse problems. — Neil Gaiman

When I was in primary school, I was given a five-line script in 'Anansi the Spider Man,' and I decided to just improv and make it my own. For a second, I felt like Kevin Hart because everyone was laughing. I just continued to do it. Why not? — John Boyega

That's an Anansi story. 'Course, all stories are Anansi stories. Even this one. — Neil Gaiman

As a boy, Fat Charlie had imagined Mrs. Dunwiddy in Equatorial Africa, peering disapprovingly through her thick spectacles at the newly evolved hominids. "Keep out of my front yard," she would tell a recently evolved and rather nervous specimen of Homo habilis, "or I am going to belt you around your ear hole, I can tell you. — Neil Gaiman

Up the narrow stairs and into the kitchen. Rosie's mother looked around and made a face as if to indicate that it did not meet her standards of hygiene, containing as it did, edible foodstuffs. "Coffee? Water?" Don't say wax fruit. "Wax fruit?" Damn. — Neil Gaiman

I kept starting 'Anansi Boys' as a movie and stopping, and eventually wrote the novel and was happy. — Neil Gaiman

the pot to get the answers the other animals wanted. But as time went by Anansi got fed up with all the animals visiting. "They always knock when I'm about to sit down and enjoy my tea, or when I'm enjoying lying in the shade of my favourite tree," he would moan. "Why can't they just leave me alone?" "It must be hard," said Aso, not really listening. But he was right, the animals were always coming to see him. Take for example when one of Rabbit's children hopped up to see Anansi. "Anansi, please look in the pot for me. My brothers and sisters tease me because I'm scared — Lynne Garner

Does that change things?" asked the old man. "Maybe
Anansi's just some guy from a story, made up back in Africa in
the dawn days of the world by some boy with blackfly on his leg,
pushing his crutch in the dirt, making up some goofy story
about a man made of tar. Does that change anything? People respond
to the stories. They tell them themselves. The stories
spread, and as people tell them, the stories change the tellers.
Because now the folk who never had any thought in their head
but how to run from lions and keep far enough away from rivers
that the crocodiles don't get an easy meal, now they're starting to
dream about a whole new place to live. The world may be the
same, but the wallpaper's changed. Yes? People still have the
same story, the one where they get born and they do stuff and
they die, but now the story means something different to what it
meant before. — Neil Gaiman

When the people came to America they brought us with them. They brought me, and Loki and Thor, Anansi and the Lion-God, Leprechauns and Cluracans and Banshees, Kubera and Frau Holle and Ashtaroth, and they brought you. We rode here in their minds, and we took root. We travelled with the settlers to the new lands across the oceans. — Neil Gaiman

Rosies mother was a highly strung bundle of barely thought-through prejudices, worries and feuds. — Neil Gaiman

Black as night, sweet as sin. — Neil Gaiman

In West African and Caribbean folklores the role falls to Anansi, a spider who sometimes imparts knowledge or wisdom - and sometimes casts doubt or seeds confusion. Eshu, — Gabriella Coleman

Each person who ever was or is or will be has a song. It isn't a song that anybody else wrote. It has its own melody, it has its own words. Very few people get to sing their song. Most of us fear that we cannot do it justice with our voices, or that our words are too foolish or too honest, or too odd. So people live their song instead. — Neil Gaiman

I think there should be more black characters, and more of all kinds of characters, in fiction. Almost all of the main characters in my novel Anansi Boys are black. And there are black characters in featured roles in all the other novels except Stardust and Coraline. (Something I was happy to see was not the case in Henry Selick's film.) — Neil Gaiman

You aren't scared of limes, are you?" asked Charlie.
The creature laughed, scornfully. "I," it said, "am frightened of nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing," it said.
Charlie said, "Are you extremely frightened of nothing?"
"Absolutely terrified of it," admitted the Dragon.
"You know," said Charlie, "I have nothing in my pockets. Would you like to see it?"
"No," said the Dragon uncomfortably, "I most definitely would not. — Neil Gaiman

He had imagined Scotland as being a soft place, all gentle heathery hills, but here on the north coast everything seemed sharp and jutting, even the grey clouds that scudded across the pale blue sky. It was as if the bones of the world showed through. — Neil Gaiman

Special thanks to Martha Sharpe and everyone at Anansi; to Mandy Barber, for the use of her stunning visual art; to Karen Mac Cormack, for her advice during the early stages of this project; and to David Bromige (weaver of radhats), for his enthusiasm which encouraged me to develop this piece into a book-length poem. — Darren Wershler-Henry

Saul was going to kill Anansi.
They both knew it. Saul was going to kill Anansi and Loplop and King Rat, and Saul was going to die, all in an effort to prove that he was not his rat-father's son. — China Mieville

Another gift is Pansy's love. Bathed in that love, Lyle in turn is gentle with other kids, especially with kids uneasy under their bragging, kids really as frightened as rabbits when a hawk darkens their world. Lyle's underweight presence steadies them, and he is sought after - but not exactly as a friend. He is more like Anansi the helpful spider of his favorite tales - a quiet ally who prefers his own company but skitters over to join you when you need him. — Kate Bernheimer

Like all sentient beings, Fat Charlie had a weirdness quotient. For some days the needle had been over in the red, occasionally banging jerkily against the pin. Now the meter broke. — Neil Gaiman