Le visage de la jeune femme était toujours zébré par les profondes cicatrices que le Rat lui avait infligées quand elle était enfant: un X en travers de ses lèvres charnues, un autre sur une joue, un croissant reliant le coin de l'oeil au coin ...
Why is it, my shadow-striding friend, that we don't fear dreams? We lose consciousness, lose control, things happen with no apparent logic and abiding by no apparent rules.... We don't fear dreams, but we do fear madness, and death terrifies us.
My question is, do you believe in an evil possessed of its own purity? or does every act intend some good?...
Tell them the Night Angel walks. Tell them Justice is come.
Why did women always believe that talking about a problem would fix it? Some issues were corpses. Hot air made them fester and rot and spread their disease to everything else. Better to bury it and move on.
The perfect killer has no identity.
