The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.

It's strange, but seeing something broken is somehow worse when you can tell that it used to be beautiful.

The things I had were mine and some of them were broken, but they were real. They were so very far from nothing.

The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.

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.

Once, I ordered two thousand lady bugs from the local garden center and set them loose in the atrium. I sprinkled marigold seeds in the ficus planters and put gold fish in the lobby fountain. These are things I did with no consequences, no repercussions. My nineteen detentions were for smart answers and missed homework. There is no equivalent punishment for making the world a stranger place.

I fell headfirst into a sinkhole of pretty things, and the world inside your eyelids is just as big as the one outside.