There were more ways to live than the ones given by one's superiors

All our lives are activity without meaning; we burrow ratlike into life and we squirm ratlike through it and ratlike we are flung into our graves at the end. Now and then, why shouldn't we hear a voice of prophecy.

But his face had that hollow look, as if there was something gone... you know that look. The inward focus. Distantly attentive to the home you're missing, or the someone you're missing. That look that a bird has when it turns it dry reptilian eye on you. That look that doesn't see you because the mind is filled up with someone it would rather see.

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

Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?

Okay let's get this over with, no I'm not seasick, yes I've always been green, No I didn't eat grass as a child.

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