Evil, however powerful it seemed,could be undone by its own appetite

We burn so hard, but we shed so little light; it makes us crazy and sad.

Horror fiction shows us that the control we believe we have is purely illusory, and that every moment we teeter on chaos and oblivion.

A man kills the thing he loves, and he must die a little himself.

Whatever capacity she possesses to supernaturally beguile a human soul—and she possesses many—she liked his clear-sightedness too well, to blind him that way.

Often people who are wonderful with animals aren't always terribly good with human beings.

That which is imagined can never be lost.