What A Blessed If Painful Thing, This

I See God Now As An Unimaginative Writer Of Popular Fictions, Someone Who Builds Stories Around Sadistic And Graceless Plots, Narratives That Exist Only To Express His Terror Of A Woman's Power To Choose Who And How To Love, To Redefine Love As She Sees Fit, Not As God Thinks It Ought To Be. The Author Is Unworthy Of His Own Characters.

Gold Don't Come Off. What's Good Stays Good No Matter How Much Of A Beating It Takes.

The Difference Between Childhood And Adulthood, Vic Had Come To Believe, Was The Difference Between Imagination And Resignation. You Traded One For The Other And Lost Your Way.

I Want You To Remember What Was Good In Me, Not What Was Most Awful. The People You Love Should Be Allowed To Keep Their Worst To Themselves.

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.