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There would be no Sherlock Holmes if it were not for serial publication.

Ah men, why do you want all this attention? I can write poems for myself, make love to a doorknob if absolutely necessary. What do you have to offer me I can't find otherwise except humiliation? Which I no longer need.

Some cleric putting a match to her. /Neither of them looks happy about it. /Once lit, she'll burn like a book, /like a book that was ever finished, /like a locked-up library.

What a moron I was to think you were sweet and innocent, when it turns out you were actually college-educated the whole time!

You can’t buy it, but it has a price,” said Oryx. “Everything has a price.

Love is the pursuit of shadows.