How can you stand to have me near you?" "The only thing I can't handle is your leaving.

Rhage exhaled slowly, air easing out of his nose. As he sank into his skin, he reveled in the perfection of peace. The heavenly silence. The great roaring absence.

Unfortunately, beer was only a short-term answer. And head transplants had yet to be approved by the FDA.

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.

I could take you down on this sidewalk and be up that skirt of yours in a heartbeat. And you wouldn't fight me, would you? No, she probably wouldn't. Wrath and Beth

[...]you know what they say about messengers, right"? Excuse me?" Too much bad news will get you shot."[...]

Still, it would have been great, just once, to have a man stare at her with total adoration. To have him be... enthralled. Yes, that was the word. She would have loved for a man to be enthralled by her.