Forget us, forget us all, it makes no difference now, but don't forget we loved it when we were alive.

Only he with the hobbled foot fully knows the beauty of running. Only he with the severed ear can apprehend what the sweetest music must sound like. Our ailments complete us.

The more civilized we become, the more horrendous our entertainments.

It isn’t hard to find evil in this world. Evil is always more easily imagined than good, somehow.

Everyone dies. It's a question of where and how, that's all.

... the decades looked on and didn't notice her passing. They stared from their fixed mounts across at each other and didn't see revolution striding between them, on her way to destiny.

One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her~is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?