That's what happens when you keep a secret from someone you love: you start to hate them for allowing you to prove your own willingness to deceive them.

The first thing to say about Eve is that she was a big improvement on the Adam design, or that Adam was an extremely misguided variation on the Eve design. (Consider testicles. Two concentrated nuclei of absolute vulnerability. Where? Dangling between the legs. I rest my case.)

If Im going to invest the time in a novel, I want something more than the entertainment you get out of most genre fiction.

Renounce love and you can achieve demonic focus.

Peace is purchased in the currency of loss.

You can't blame me. I mean that literally. You're incapable of blaming me. You're human. Being human is choosing freedom over imprisonment, autonomy over dependency, liberty over servitude. You can't blame me because you know (come on, man, you've always known) that the idea of spending eternity with nothing to do except praise God is utterly unappealing. You'd be catatonic after an hour. Heaven's a swiz because to get in you have to leave yourself outside. You can't blame me because -- now do please be honest with yourself for once -- you'd have left, too.

The message is clear: By all means become an abomination -- but only while unhinged by grief or wrath.