A single day spent doing things which fail to nourish the soul is a day stolen, mutilated, and discarded in the gutter of destiny.

But miracles are not for the asking; they come only when the stern eyes of God droop shut for a moment, and Our Lady takes advantage of His inattention to grant an illicit mercy. God...is an Anglican, whereas Our Lady is of the True Faith; the two of Them have an uneasy relationship, unable to agree on anything, except that if They divorce, the Devil will leap gleefully into the breach.

Reassurance is such a sad, mad thing. Deep inside, everyone knows the truth.

Nowadays, her life is more like a newspaper: aimless, up-to-date and full of meaningless events

Most true things are kind of corny, don’t you think? But we make them more sophisticated out of sheer embarrassment.

The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.

I am a fallen woman, but I assure you: I did not fall. I was pushed.