I like mainly to be invisible, to sort of drift around unseen in the world.

Like all strong people, she suffered always a measure of loneliness; she was a marginal outsider, a secret infidel of a certain sort.

an intoxication with forbidden knowledge in which the natural things become unimportant.

Life itself must be founded upon the infinite possibility for choice and accident. And if we cannot prove that it is, we must believe that it is. We must believe that we can change, that we can control, that we can direct our own destinies.

-You are on the verge of being truly mad. -No, not at all. Look at me. I can tie my shoelaces. See?

None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.

A perfectly evil Devil makes even less sense than a perfect God.