“Beauty,’ Brimstone had scoffed once. ‘Humans are fools for it. As helpless as moths who hurl themselves at fire.”
“She was up and down—from fire and brimstone to smoke and ashes.”
“...Maybe instead of fire and brimstone, hell is just a feeling of loneliness”
“The genius of the primitive mind is that it can render human helplessness in noble and beautiful ways.”
“Their sudden intimacy was like the explosive combustion that engulfs and consumes a moth that has fluttered too close to a candle flame; a completely unexpected turn of events that took both of them unawares and swept them irresistibly up and out of themselves as it hurled them into each other’s arms.”
“Hell was not a pit of fire and brimstone. Hell was waking up alone, the sheets wet with your tears and your seed, knowing the woman you had dreamed of would never come back to you.”