Was There Any Human Urge More Pitiful-or

Terror Is The Desire To Save Your Own Ass, But Horror Is Rooted In Sympathy.

Men, She Thought, Were One Of The World's Few Sure Comforts, Like A Fire On A Cold October Night, Like Cocoa, Like Broken-in-slippers. Their Clumsy Affections, Their Bristly Faces, And Their Willingness To Do What Needed To Be Done - Cook An Omelette, Change Lightbulbs, Make With Hugging - Sometimes Almost Made Being A Woman Fun.

The Soul Is An Irrational, Indivisible Equation That Perfectly Expresses One Thing: You. The Soul Would Be No Good To The Devil If It Could Be Destroyed. And It Is Not Lost When Placed In Satan's Care, As Is So Often Said. He Always Know Exactly How To Put His Finger On It.

Innocence Ain’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be, You Know. Innocent Little Kids Rip The Wings Off Flies, Because They Don’t Know Any Better. That’s Innocence

She Breathed Deeply Of The Scent Of Decaying Fiction, Disintegrating History, And Forgotten Verse, And She Observed For The First Time That A Room Full Of Books Smelled Like Dessert: A Sweet Snack Made Of Figs, Vanilla, Glue, And Cleverness.