I thought symphaths didn't have a conscience." "I'm half my mother's boy, too. So I have a little." "Aren't you lucky." The Reverend's chin dipped down, and his eyes flashed pure, purple evil for a split second. Then he smiled. "No… all the rest of you are fortunate.

Bad deeds like beauty, are in the eye of the beholder.

Sister," he murmured, not as an inquiry, but a statement of fact. "Brother mine," she groaned... before her consciousness slipped from her grasp and she drifted away. But she would come back to him. One way or the other, she would not leave her twin ever again.

I was living with this sense that there was something going on, something important, but I didn't know what it was. It was like...I knew the secret was there, and it was a dark one, but I just couldn't reach it. Nearly drove me mad.

It was a universal truth among males that anytime you saw a guy get it in the nuts, you experienced a shot of phantom pain in your own croquet set. As Lassiter crouched beside the Brother’s pretzel of a body, he was feeling a little nauseous himself, and he took a moment to cup what hung between his legs—just to reassure the boys downstairs that however much of an iconoclast he was, some things were sacred.

You said you wanted to remember something.' His palms slid up to the top of her thighs and squeezed. 'So lie back and let me do my thing.' -Issac Rothe, Crave

The Destroyer has arrived and you are he.