Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven. So you may always belong there, bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it.

She wasn't afraid of doing good or of resisting evil. She was merely afraid she might not be able to tell the difference.

If magic was present, it moved under the skin of the world, beneath the ability of human eyes to catch sight of it.

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

I learned failure early and mastered it.

Oh now that's a blueprint for an impossibly rosy future

It was mild monsters like these that made Jack the Ripper go after young women, she decided: who could tolerate yielding the world to someone who behaved as if she had given birth to the very world herself?