I told her why we are here. I told you wouldn't hurt Jack." "The coffin?" I smiled. I couldn't help it. He was a 'jack in a box.

But we were all young once. It passes, like innocence and a sense of fair play. The only thing left in the end is a good instinct for survival.

In chains and darkness, wherefore should I stay, And mourn in prison, while I keep the key.

Besides I'm a sucker for a pair of pretty eyes.

Most hatred is based on fear, one way or another.

Is it better to outmonster the monsters or to be quietly devoured?

I never said I was consistent.