You don't go after what's mine. Now be a good boy and gut yourself." -Xhex, Lover Mine.

Often people with fine countenances and fit bodies were mistakenly assumed by others to have the brains to match.

I suppose this is for the best," Blay said into his shoulder. "You can't cook." "See? I'm so not Prince Charming.

Next time you think of me like that , say my name when you come. It'll get you off even better.

Sometimes in life, from out of a myriad of prosaic decisions like what to eat and where to sleep and how to dress, a true crossroads is revealed. In these moments, when the fog of relative irrelevancy lifts and fate rolls out a demand for free will, there is only left or right – no option of four-by-fouring into the underbrush between two paths, no negotiating with the choice that has been presented. You must answer the call and pick your way. And there is no reverse.

Souls were the same. They, too, had useless baggage that impeded their proper performance, these annoying, holier-than-thou bits dangling like an appendix waiting for infection. Faith and hope and love...prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude...all this useless clutter just packed too much damn morality into the heart, getting in the way of the soul's innate desire for malignancy.

So will you meet me?” “Yeah. Sure. Where.” “Montrag’s safe house in Connecticut. If you were the one who killed him, you know the address.