Well, here he was. They could save each other, the way the poets promised lovers should. He was mystery, he was darkness, he was all she had dreamed of. And if she would only free him he would service her - oh yes - until her pleasure reached that threshold that, like all thresholds, was a place where the strong grew stronger, and the weak perished. Pleasure was pain there, and vice versa. And he knew it well enough to call it home.

You can plan to be brave - it's even better if you just try to be brave.

I don't like PG-13 horror movies. I think they're a contradiction in terms.

There must still be room for the falling note, of course. Even in an undying world there are times when beauty passes from sight, or love passes from the heart, and we feel the sorrow of partition.

All I ever wanted to do is darken the day and brighten the night

If you want to look like the people next door, you're probably smothering yourself into your dreams.

Never believe your eyes