Hell is not a place, it's a state of mind and body; hell is obsession with a voice, a face, a name.

She wanted an Angel of Music . . . an angel who would make her believe in herself at last. I'd been the Angel of Doom for the khanum. There was no reason in the world why I could not be the Angel of Music for Christine. I couldn't hope to be a man to her, I couldn't ever be a real, breathing, living man waking at her side and reaching out for her . . . But I could be her angel' -Erik

I can make anything disappear, if I really want to.

Hell is not a place, it's a state of mind and body; hell is obsession with a voice, a face, a name.

In point of fact I was a perfectly devoted and dutiful little Catholic—until the day I learned that animals have no souls.

Memories are like fireflies darting across the surface of my mind, showing me here and there images so sharp and vivid that I catch my breath in wonder before the vignette disappears, sinking like a pebble into the quicksand of regret and recrimination.

All beauty must have its imperfections, all happiness its share of sorrow.