What if everything you believe is wrong and you could still be loved and still be forgiven?

Did you like it?" he said. "I could have given you...jewelry, but I wanted it to be something that was wholly yours. That no one else would hear or own. And I am not good with words, so I wrote how I felt about you in music." He paused. "Did you like it?

Yes," said Will, "you two don't seem to have much in common, save for a penchant for demon women and evil.

And then she said nothing else, for Henry put his arms around her and kissed her. Kissed her in such a way that she no longer felt plain, or conscious of her hair or the ink spot on her dress or anything but Henry, whom she had always loved. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks, and when he drew away, he touched her wet face wonderingly. "Really," he said. "You love me, too, Lottie?

aren't you, uh... reproducing? "sure, we love reproducing it's one of our favorite things.

I’m from New Jersey. I was born in toxic sludge.

What they had between them was still as fragile as flickering candle flame, as delicate as eggshell - and he knew that if it shattered, if he somehow let it break and be destroyed, something inside him would shatter too, something that could never be fixed.