“Forget us, forget us all, it makes no difference now, but don't forget we loved it when we were alive.”

“Love makes hunters of us all.”

“So he stalked her again. Love makes hunters of us all.”

“How deeply bound by cords of family anger we all are[...]None of us breaks free.”

“Light will blind us in time, but what we learn in the dark can see us through.”

“Thanks to our artists, we pretend well, living under canopies of painted clouds and painted gods, in halls of marble floors across which the sung Masses paint hope in deep impatsi of echo. We make of the hollow world a fuller, messier, prettier place, but all our inventions can't create the one thing we require: to deserve any fond attention we might accidentally receive, to receive any fond attention we don't in the course of things deserve. We are never enough to ourselves because we can never be enough to another. Any one of us walks into any room and reminds its occupant that we are not the one they most want to see. We are never the one. We are never enough.”

“The colossal might of wickedness: how we love to locate it massively elsewhere. But so much of it comes down to what each one of us does between breakfast and bedtime.”