Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.

There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.

When you think about it, most of the good ideas came along to make sin a whole lot easier.

He paused, twisting his goatee, considering the law in Deuteronomy that forbade clothes with mixed fibers. A problematic bit of Scripture. A matter that required thought. "Only the devil wants man to have a wide range of lightweight and comfortable styles to choose from," he murmured at last, trying out a new proverb. "Although there may be no forgiveness for polyester. On this one matter, Satan and the Lord are in agreement.

Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

You know someone for a while and then one day a hole opens underneath them, and they fall out of your world.

It was something... the way a person's life picked up speed, the way a life was like a bullet aimed at one final target, impossible to slow or turn aside, and like the bullet, you were ignorant of what you were going to hit, would never know anything except the rush and the impact.