being with people makes me vomit. I don't like em. I never did.
How many human eyes...had snatched glimpses of their secret anatomies, down the passage of years?
She wanted nothing that he could offer her, except perhaps his absence.
Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any other story springs.
There is no delight the equal of dread
She had opened a door... and now she was walking with demons. And at the end of her travels, she would have her revenge... Pain had made a sadist of her.