“You have a face that suits a womanFor her soul's screen--The sort of beauty that's called humanIn hell, Faustine.”

“She was beautiful, only hers was the dark beauty of night, just as Sherry's was the bright beauty of daytime. Her hair was raven-black, ending in a sort of widow's peak low on her forehead, and her face and arms were alabaster- white. Her gown was a clinging thing of swirling black, almost like smoke, and two peculiar shoulder-draperies she wore, hanging down loosely and caught at the wrists, almost suggested great triangular wings when her arms were in motion.Her lips were a red gash in the pallor of her face, and they glistened as though she had daubed them with fresh blood instead of rouge."What's your name?" I asked."Call me Faustine," she said low. I saw her staring fixedly at me, with a sort of half-smile on her face, but her gaze rested a little lower than my own face. I fingered my neck uneasily. "Is there something on my collar?"("Vampire's Honeymoon")”

“You can have Jesus in your spirit and have an outrageous mess in your soul, and if you don't know what that's called, it's called religion.”

“She was the sort of girl called “bonny”—not beautiful, but lively and nicely made, with something about her that took the eye.”

“If beauty and love do not suit the times, then you have to be beautiful and to love to spite the times!”

“She has gathered that the man in the grey suit whom her father called Alexander also has a student, and there will be some sort of game. "Like chess?" she asks once. "No," her father says. "Not like chess.”