“Dawn.The transformation is gruesome and brings me to my feet. My legs nearly buckle, but I stumble to the doorway, terrified for the man-beast in the destroyed room.He screams and roars, shaking with pain, and grief, and such horrible shame. My heart bleeds, weeping for him. I fall to my knees, helpless to do anything but watch.When it is finally, blessedly over, my Beast bows his head, looking utterly exhausted. His rumbling breaths are a comfort like nothing I’ve ever known.I cannot give up on the monster of a man. For this gentle, tormented Beast, I must fight on. I must find a way to free him.”

“I ripped my left arm out of his hand and slammed my elbow into his solar plexus. He exhaled in a gasp. I lunged for the dagger and sat on top of him, my knees pinning his arms, my dagger on his throat.He lay still. “I give up,” he said and smiled. “Your move.”Er. I was sitting atop the Beast Lord in my underwear, holding a knife to his throat. What the hell was my next move?”

“So bring me this man, trembling and shivering from head to foot; let me fall into his arms or down at his knees; he will weep and we shall weep, he will be eloquent and I shall be comforted, and my heart shall melt into his, he will take my soul, and I his God.But what is this kindly old gentleman to me? And what am I to him? Just one more member of the race of unfortunates, one more shade to go with the many he has seen, one more figure to add to his total of executions.”

“...one of the wolf-like beasts wraps it's arms around me and howls into my ear, obscuring all other sounds. I lash at the creature, trying to wriggle free, gathering my energy to fight back. before I can, the beasts laughs and says, "Surely you recognise me.”

“And blessed be the first sweet suffering that I felt in being conjoined with love and the bow and the shafts with which I was pierced, and the wounds that run to the depths of my heart…” any man who loves this poem as I do, must be my master... And any man who feels as I do about these words must be my drinking companion.”

“My misfortune is that I still resemble a man too much. I should liked to be wholly a beast like that goat. - Quasimodo”