Writers. For some reason, a lot of you reject what you hear and see in your heads. If you go too long ignoring it, it builds up and then you do all sorts of weird things. Mumble to yourself. Nightmares. Day-dreams. Total anarchy and chaos. Before you know it, the writer is either sitting in corner feverishly humming to his- or herself or on Prozac. You’re not on Prozac, are you? (Esther)

He attacked us. What was I supposed to do? Invite him to dinner? (Sin)

These Atlantikoinonia. They’re human? (Acheron) What else would they be? Turnips? (Tory)

The strongest steel is forged by the fires of hell. It is pounded and struck repeatedly before it's plunged back into the molten fire. The fire gives it power and flexibility, and the blows give it STRENGTH. Those two thing make the metal pliable and able to withstand every battle it's called upon to fight.

I just love to put a hurt on evil things. (Katra)

Does Fang have an off switch? Talon asked Vane.

May the strength of Ares and wisdom of Athena see you through. (Eros) And may Hades roast your hoary soul. (Julian)