The thing about real life is, when you do something stupid, it normally costs you.

I mean, seriously, what lady of taste could resist a shiny green head of hair like mine?

One of the things is that in times of severe disorder, you can't worry about the dead, only the living.

I might have to drink the blood of animals to stay alive, but I would never feast on one of my own kind, no matter what Mr.Crepsley said, or hows much my belly growled.

There are a lot of black-hearted, mean-spirited bastards in the world. It's important that we hold them to acount. But always remember that you might be the most black-hearted and mean-spirited in the lot, so hold yourself the most accountable of all.

It's a bit like the feeling I get when I'm standing on a cliff or high building, looking down at a suicidal drop. I start thinking about what would happen if I stepped off, the rush of the fall, the shattering collision, the quiet emptiness of death. Part of me wants to experience the thrill of complete surrender.

I won't die. I won't give those ghouls the pleasure. I'll live and grow strong. I'll escape, then hunt them down and make them suffer.