Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!

Is that all souls are for? For when we die?" "No. They're for living, too.

Nothing made you feel so useless as another person's grief.

Once upon a time, a little girl was raised by monsters. But angels burned the doorways to their world, and she was all alone.

It seemed she was in a cathedral—if, that is, the earth itself were to dream a cathedral into being over thousands of years of water weeping through stone.

It is a condition of monsters that they do not perceive themselves as such. The dragon, you know, hunkered in the village devouring maidens, heard the townsfolk cry 'Monster!' and looked behind him.

One world on its own is a strange enough seethe of coiling, unknowable veins of intention and chance, but two? Where two worlds mingle breath through rips in the sky, the strange becomes stranger, and many things may come to pass that few imaginations could encompass.