For she is my love, and other women are but big bodies of flame.

Dawn has a way of casting a pall on any night magic.

Once you get below the floor of our personal identities, we're all connected. Perhaps that's why we can move into others' lives.

In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show.

They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?

I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand.

No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.