Pick a sin we can both live with, is what I ask.

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.

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

Love requires Context.

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

Gold don't come off. What's good stays good no matter how much of a beating it takes.

I mean, when the world comes for your children, with the knives out, it's your job to stand in the way.