I would have done just about anything for him.

My conscience is killing me, isn't it? And when you're immortal that can be a really long and ignominious death

Evil is always possible. Goodness is a difficulty.

He had grieved for me, I'll give him that much. But then he is so good at grieving! He wears woe as others wear velvet; sorrow flatters him like the light of candles; tears become him like jewels.

Your love to others, and their love for you, that the increase of love in life itself around you, is what matters.

When I write something, every word of it is meant. I can't say it enough.

I saw finally the futility of all these gestures, that witchcraft is but a matter of focus-that one cann apply one's fierce and immeasurable energies to an act of choice.