It’s part of growing up, I suppose…you always have to leave something behind you.

Lucifer protests he was never to blame for inducing anyone to sin, and that he’s never had an interest in owning souls: 'They die, and they come here – having transgressed against what they believed to be right – and expect us to fulfill their desire for pain and retribution. I don’t make them come here… I need no souls. And how can anyone own a soul? No, they belong to themselves. They just hate to have to face up to it.

HERE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS, CROWLEY. And suddenly he knew. He hated that. They could just as easily have told him, they didn't suddenly have to drop chilly knowledge straight into his brain.

Perhaps this is the ultimate freedom, eh, Dreamlord? The freedom to leave.

All bookshelves are magical.

As far as I'm concerned, the entire reason for becoming a writer is not having to get up in the morning.

Chantal is having a relationship with a sentence. Just one of those things. A chance meeting that grew into something important for the both of them.