“You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame permanently aglow in your subtle spine (oh, how you have to cringe and hide!), in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs―the slightly feline outline of a cheekbone, the slenderness of a downy limbs, and other indices which despair and shame and tears of tenderness forbid me to tabulate―the little deadly demon among the wholesome children; she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.”

“She stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.”

“she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.”

“Vengeful as nature herself, she loves her children only in order to devour them better and if she herself rips her own veils of self-deceit, Mother perceives in herself untold abysses of cruelty as subtle as it is refined.”

“Oh, yeah,' she said. 'He likes your brain, J.D., but he ain't attracted to you, which is a cryin' shame, if you don't mind me sayin' so.'No. How could I mind the truth? It was a cryin' shame, and my tears almost dripped right into my stuffing.”

“The demons of despair will always try to hold you back from enjoying your life. Either they will try to haunt you with your failures of your past or torment you with your worries of the future. Refuse to entertain them by rising above and staying in the present. They can't have any power over you...if you don't allow them to!”