They'd never been lovers, of course, not in the physical sense. But they'd been lovers as most of us manage, loving through expressions and gestures and the palm set softly upon the bruise at the necessary moment. Lovers by inclination rather than by lust. Lovers, that is, by love.

From torched skyscrapers, men grew wings.

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

Growth and change were viewed as reactions to conditions met

Not an ugly color, Nanny thought. Just not a human color.

I mean, evil and boredom. Evil and ennui. Evil and the lack of stimulation. Evil and sluggish blood.

Immortality is a chancy thing; it cannot be promised or earned. Perhaps it cannot even be identified for what it is.