I can’t help being a gorgeous fiend. It’s just the card I drew.

No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.

Who knew that better than I, who had presided over the death of my own body, seeing all I called human wither and die only to form an unbreakable chain which held me fast to this world yet made me forever its exile, a specter with a beating heart?

Let the flesh instruct the mind.

But the sky was never quite the same shade of blue again.

I assume I don't need an introduction.

When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is.