I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must. Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.

Do you think they missed him terribly when he fell? Did God cry over his lost angel, I wonder?

I can be whatever. You can be whatever. We can be whatever. Whatever, together.

I'm sorry, Gemma. But we can't live in the light all of the time. You have to take whatever light you can hold into the dark with you.

But aren't many gardens beautiful because they are imperfect?...aren't the strange, new flowers that arise by mistake or misadventure as pleasing as the well-tended and planned?

You are truly Satan's sequined spawn.

Greetings, ax murderer! I was just wondering how you like your eggs?