“God help me! I am small and alone but I must help them; and I most not waste a moment, because every moment another soul dies.”

“There was a world made by God, and I could think only of the world made by man.”

“There was still something I could do: I could tell the world.”

“I don't know that he said a thing. He smelled strange, I noticed that right away, not rotten like you and Roticella said, more complicated, like an apple that the wasps are flying around, musty, but autumny... I can't explain. But he hissed, and those awful red eyes, like red fire, coals. God, they were anything but dead the way they are in his picture. I could see the iris was dark brown, almost black, and the whites were bloodshot lines... The lashes were thick and Harry I just can't say this right, but the eyes, they weren't repulsive. Evil, evil, but not to turn you away. I... I couldn't stop looking at him. It was like some sort of spider sucking out all my juices. Destroying me right there on the sidewalk. 'And I felt I was going to faint, and I tried, I tried to break out of that stare of his, but I couldn't. He was drawing everything out of me - my job, that you were trying to trap him, even things about me, even personal things. Then... then he was gone.'I was conscious of myself again, it was like I had been left hollow, worthless. I mean something of me went with him and the rest of me wanted to go with him. I'm ashamed, Harry, so ashamed...' She sobbed for a moment, then with difficulty regained her control.”

“I miss you terribly. You see, you always talk about getting cure of our romance, and I did my best to help! But now you have me definitely and hopelessly 'contaminated' to the extent that I am sick at heart. Strangeley, I do not want to be cured! I love you completely.”

“That's enough Susy, nuff, nuff.''No, no I just want to say this,' she gasped, on the brink of incoherence. 'His eyes, his face, it's not ugly, and I know if I go back that he'll come and get some more of me... Even when he has drained all I know and when he... God, God, he came at me, at my throat and even then, I couldn't stop him, didn't want to even when I felt his mouth...' She reached to her throat, where her hands fluttered. Her eyes, clear and cornflower blue when they had been so serene a few minutes ago, were stark and tormented. Suddenly she buckled toward him from her propped position, sobbing. He caught her and she wept into his chest.'And the worst thing... the worst thing... is that I want to see him again... Harry, he wanted me to take that cross off, and I did, and I've felt him wanting me now, even now, with blessed Jesus over my bed.”

“I am an absurd idealist. But I believe that all that must come true. For, unless it comes true, the world will be laid desolate. And I believe that it can come true. I believe that, by the grace of God, men will awake presently and be men again, and colour and laughter and splendid living will return to a grey civilisation. But that will only come true because a few men will believe in it, and fight for it, and fight in its name against everything that sneers and snarls at that ideal.”