Three is the number of those who do holy work;Two is the number of those who do lover's work;One is the number of those who do perfect evilOr perfect good.
Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any story springs. The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and the tales that preceded tha...
You must be careful with kindness. It's usually mistaken for weakness by stupid people.
We each die countless little deaths on our way to the last. We die out of shame as humiliation. We perish from despair. And, of course, we die for love.
To call you excrement would be an insult to the product of my bowels.
It’s only when you’ve lost someone that you realize the nonsense of thatphrase It’s a small world. It isn’t. It’s a vast, devouring world, especially if you’re alone.
Evil, however powerful it seemed, could be undone by its own appetite.
A man kills the thing he loves, and he must die a little himself.
No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.
Life is shortAnd pleasures fewAnd holed the shipAnd drowned the crewBut o! But o!
Writing about the unholy is one way of writing about what is sacred.
We burn so hard, but we shed so little light; it makes us crazy and sad.
I dreamt a limitless book,A book unbound,Its leaves scattered in fantastic abundanceOn every line there was a new horizon drawn,
We’re too much ourselves. Afraid of letting go of what we are, in case we are nothing, and holding on so tight, we lose everything else.
She had opened a door... and now she was walking with demons. And at the end of her travels, she would have her revenge... Pain had made a sadist of her.
Nothing happens carelessly. We’re not brought into the world without reason, even though we may never understand the reason. An infant that lives an hour, that dies before it can lay eyes on those who...