I've never been impulsive. It's always been in my nature to consider things carefully and then decide upon the best solution. Except, sometimes the circumstances change. Sometimes things get so complicated and so bad that your nature just doesn't matter anymore.
Let me tell you a little bit about demons. They love pain and other people’s misery. They lie when it suits them and don’t see anything wrong with it. They corrupt and kill and destroy, all without conscience. You just don’t have the capacity for something as honorable as loving another person.
All my life, I've understood the nature of where I come from, but I never thought it might be wicked until now.
All great acts are ruled by intention. What you mean is what you get.
The world is full of unused corners.
I fell headfirst into a sinkhole of pretty things, and the world inside your eyelids is just as big as the one outside.
That was the thing about being bereaved. People were overcome with sympathy. They did things for you without even considering whether or not it was the right thing to do.
I had only to remember that centuries before, men fell in battle for the daughter of Troy, that passions carried greater weight than decorum. It took so little to prove that human life and property are devastatingly temporary. All she had to do was lie down for a prince. They burned the city to the ground.
The fact is, the contest has always been invulnerability, and even when you win, you still lose.
People make decisions, and maybe you don't always agree, but those choices are still their own.
The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.
Sometimes it doesn't matter how dark the world gets. You can be saved by the smallest thing.
Once, my mother told a whole host of angels that she’d rather die than go back to a man she didn’t love.
It's strange, but seeing something broken is somehow worse when you can tell that it used to be beautiful.
You presume to name those who have no name. We are pandemonium and disaster. We are the dancing, gibbering horror of the world.
The hours spool out like a ribbon I can't find the end of.