Evil is a completely different creature, Mac. Evil is bad that believes it's good.

Werewolves? Oh please, just plain stupid. Who wants to get it on with a man ruled by his inner dog?

Jericho Barrons was my poison now.

I hope when I'm ninety-five the only things I want are free: love, family, a good home-cooked meal.

The illusions it had woven for me had taken place only in my head. The battle had been invisible to the naked eye, but the hard ones are.

Lust is a thing of the blood. Doesn't need head or heart.

You want to believe in black and white, good and evil, heroes that are truly heroic, villains that are just plain bad, but I've learned in the past year that things are rarely so simple. The good guys can do some truly awful things, and the bad guys can sometimes surprise the heck out of you.