For every victory there is a price.

And Kushiel sends no punishment that we are not fit to bear.

Pain obliterates everything else. In pain, there is only the eternal present.

And for a price, I will pretend absolutely nothing.

Beauty is at its most poignant when the cold hand of Death holds poised to wither it imminently.

Stupid to speak of blame when the wills of the immortals are involved.

And having once chosen, never to seek to return to the crossroads of that decision-for even if one chooses wrongly, the choice cannot be unmade.