The grape of truth is often bitter, but not to taste it in its season would be to waste the vine. — Tanith Lee

The antithesis of myself. No fervor in him, no greed for life, only his ruthless craving to possess, which took no pleasure in possession.

This much poison cannot pour in one’s ears without it will leave some trace.

I have seen women who thought they loved me look at me that way, and wolves which were hungry.