We must have taken a wrong turn turning somewhere." "Where, Purgatory?" said Dozy. "We're in Hell.
A demon obsessed with being human is a demon no longer
There's a difference between living and just surviving. Do something you love, and find someone to love who loves that you love what you do. It is really that simple. And that hard.
But don't they say that all is fair in love and war? I heard that somewhere." "'They?' Who are 'they?'" "I don't know. Just people." "That's what the victorious claim, not the defeated; the powerful, not the powerless. 'All is fair.' 'The end justifi...
When did you get so clever?" "When I realized I wasn't as clever as I thought.
You've just inherited rudeness. We've had to work at it.
The nature of humanity, its essence, is to feel another's pain as one's own, and to act to take that pain away,. There is a nobility in compassion, a beauty in empathy, a grace in forgiveness.
They were on the side of the angels, even if the angels weren't entirely sure that this was a good thing.
The Detective was different. Not that he wasn't a good man; Willie had heard enough about him to understand that he was the kind who didn't like to turn away from another's pain, the kind who couldn't put a pillow over his ears to drown out the cries...
We lie to protect our children, and in lying we expose them to the greatest of harms
People who believe in buried gods,’ said Louis. ‘Do you believe in buried gods, Detective Walsh?’ ‘I’m Episcopalian. I believe in everything.
Being shot at for years by men of a particular nationality will tend to impact negatively upon one’s view of them.
Slow animals always become prey in the end.
If cats could count, they’d start getting nervous around the time they put paid to their fifth life.
The trick was not to stifle the emotions, but to control them. Love, anger, grief – all were weapons in their way, but they needed to be kept in check.
and it contained within it the prospect of living and the hope of dying, of endings and beginnings, of love and loss and peace and rage, all wrapped up in two whispered syllables.
You pay by the hour, even if the job only takes five minutes. I don’t do fractions.
Know a man by his metaphors.
Misery loved company, but damnation needed it.
Come on,” I said a third time, to the approaching darkness, to the figures that beckoned from within it, to the peace that comes at last to every dead thing.
It’s a full-time job being homeless. It’s a full-time job being poor.
