That’s what happens to friends, eventually. They leave you. It’s practically what they’re for.

You know how we can be about things which sparkle and shine. We imagine they will put back something of what has been lost.

The worst thing in the world is having to go back to the dark you shook off.

I looked at this man and thought: Oh, how we are going to hurt each other.

September could see it. She did not know what is was she saw. That is the disadvantage of being a heroine, rather than a narrator. She knew only that a red light glowed and went dark, glowed and went dark.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

The rapt pupil will be forgiven for assuming the Tsar of Death to be wicked and the Tsar of Life to be virtuous. Let the truth be told: There is no virtue anywhere. Life is sly and unscrupulous, a blackguard, wolfish, severe. In service to itself, it will commit any offense. So, too, is Death possessed of infinite strategies and a gaunt nature- but also mercy, also grace and tenderness. In his own country, Death can be kind.