It's clear, it's fresh, like a mint candy.

It wasn't so easy though, ending the war. A war is a huge fire; the ashes from it drift far, and settle slowly.

In Heaven, there are no debts - all have been paid, one way or another - but in Hell there's nothing but debts, and a great deal of payment is exacted, though you can't ever get all paid up. You have to pay, and pay, and keep on paying. So Hell is like an infernal maxed-out credit card that multiplies the charges endlessly.

Tell what is yours to tell. Let others tell what is theirs.

Because I am a mother, I am capable of being shocked: as I never was when I was not one.

Whatever is silenced will clamor to be heard, though silently.

I didn't want him to become gray and multi-dimensional and complicated like everyone else. Was every Heathcliff a Linton in disguise?