“To make great art, you had to expose your soul, and some things should be left safely in the dark.”

“I don’t fool you, do I? Those others”—he waved a vague hand to indicate theirmissing comrades—“they think I’m all that—but you know better, don’t you.”“Know what?” she’d asked.He leaned forward, smelling of beer and cigarettes. “You know I’m a fraud. I canfeel the beast inside me, screaming to get out. And if I loose it, it will pull me up to greatness despite myself.”“So why not let it free?” She hadn’t been a werewolf then. The world had been a gentler place, the monsters safely in their closets, and she had been brave in her ignorance.His eyes were old and weary, his voice slurring a bit. “Because then everyone wouldsee,” he told her.“See what?”“Me.”

“Hard truths can be dealt with, triumphed over, but lies will destroy your soul.”

“Feeling scared yet? Want to go somewhere safe?" "It won't help, will it? We'd just run into Godzilla or the Vampire from Hell. Trouble just follows you around." "Hey, Trouble. Let's find out what your mysterious Indian wanted us to know.”

“Some people will tell you werewolves can only shapechange under a full moon, but people also say there's no such things as ghosts.”

“Drink it,” I told her. “It’s good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don’t drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn’t be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. It should taste sort of like bitter syrup.” She gave me a smile smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it down in one gulp. “Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, “I make the coffee.”

“Fear makes idiots out of us all, at some time or other.”