But death we are, and death we've always been.

It seems an insult to the night to speak of purpose and intent, when this common moment is so brimming full of blessed design tranquility. All things follow their course.

Ah, come now. I look like an angel, but I'm not. The old rules of nature encompass many creatures like me. We're beautiful like the diamond-backed snake, or the striped tiger, yet we're merciless killers

Should we put out the light? And then put out the light. But once put out thy light, I cannot give it vital breath again. It needs must wither.

Being liberated means reading what you want to read, and fantasizing about what you want to fantasize about.

Nothing in all the world is so nonsensical and contradictory, save mortals, that is, who live in the grip of the superstitions of the past.

I claim Dickens as a mentor. He's my teacher. He's one of my driving forces.