Sidonie, I know you don't remember it, but you once promised to trust me beyond all reason. And I swear to you that all that I am, all that I possess, including this gem-stone, is yours. I need you. I can't do this alone. Forget your memories. Look into your heart. And if you can find somewhere there, some lingering spark of trust that owes naught to reason, I beg you to speak the word written here.

For every victory there is a price.

A little truth seasons a lie like salt.

After you, it's all cheap tequila.

We may not have demon fathers dangling offers of infernal power before us, but everyone understands what it means to struggle with temptation or resist the urge to give in to our baser natures.

It is a comfort, in anguish, to be reminded of the scale of one's own troubles against the mighty breadth of the world.

Garner knowledge, by any means possible