Once upon a time, an angel lay dying in the mist. And a devil knelt over him and smiled.

...I crave a shawl." He was tense with anger but his hands remained gentle at her waist. He said, "I can make you a shawl." She cocked her head. "You knit? Well. That's an unusual accomplishment in a soldier.

You were true to her, even if she was not to you. Never repent of your own goodness, child. To stay true in the face of evil is a feat of great strength.” “Strength,” she said with a little laugh. “I gave her strength, and look what she did with it.

I will give them nightmares to haunt their dreams long after I'm gone.

Take up a weapon and you become an instrument with as pure a purpose as the weapon itself: to find arteries and open them, limbs and sever them; to take what is alive and deliver it unto death.

Life doesn’t need magic to be magical. (But a little bit sure doesn’t hurt.)

How could you tell if your instincts were just hope in disguise, and if your hope was really desperation parading as possibility?