I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.

I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.

I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.

The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.

Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.

However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.