“I’m a monster,” said the shadow of the Marquess suddenly. “Everyone says so.” The Minotaur glanced up at her. “So are we all, dear,” said the Minotaur kindly. “The thing to decide is what kind of monster to be. The kind who builds towns or the kind who breaks them.”
“She glanced at the minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something like that. Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep.”
“What kind of life would that be, to build up so much love for a person who cared so little for you?”
“We all have a Monster within; the difference is in degree, not in kind.”
“You will always be a monster - there is no turning back from it. But what kind of monster you become is entirely up to you.”
“We agreed that no one who had not grown up in a little prairie town could know anything about it. It was a kind of freemasonry, we said.”