I have been writing now for over a week. I find it cleansing, refreshing; it is good for me.” (p.531)
Lift your head to me…’ His is the kiss of a timorous lover. Feel his inhuman lips on the throat, the heat of it. The bite, when it comes, is cold. Begin to sink as...
There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.
I found it hateful, yet I wanted to be part of it.
I felt as if something hung there in the back of my mind, waiting to tarnish whatever happiness I might find. Is it safer to be unhappy? Nothing ever wants to take that away.
The Gelaming regarded themselves as a force for good, and in many ways they were, but they were also inexorable and their compassion could often feel like oppression.
He had the compassion of a vivisectionist.
Being a child is such a shining gift, yet we don’t know how precious it is until it’s worn out and gone away.
The bloody times, the horror, will just be history to them, words on a page, so how will they dare to judge? Very easily, I should imagine.
Are you saying that he deserves to die?’ I asked, chilled. ‘We all deserve to die,’ he answered.
…love’s shadow is jealousy.
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