Haven't you always been more than yourself? Haven't we all? We are none of us just one thing.
We were all monsters and bastards, and we were all beautiful.
Heaven has fashioned a knife of irony to stab me with.
I had felt the shot coming; I hadn't realized the bow was loaded with this very quarrel, perfectly calibrated to hit him hardest. What part of me had been studying him, stockpiling knowledge as ammunition?
The world is seldom so simple that it hinges on us alone.
The twin gods, Necessity and Chance, walked among the stars. What needed to be, was; what might be, sometimes was.