“And I return home always. Because love’s call has always been stronger than the moon’s.”

Everyone has forgotten that Lucifer was beautiful too and God’s favorite till he fell.

Knowledge after all is a dark art, full to the brim with liberty, a trembling, malleable power.

People are going to betray you the way Judas betrayed Jesus, the way Brutus betrayed Caesar, and you will love them anyway.

Grief makes unlikely warriors out of us all.

These are girls made of dark lace and witchcraft and a little bit of vice.

But the universe never promised you this would be easy. After all, you are the hero here.

Tell them all what they tried to kill came back. Tell them all that I have come home.

You are still the kindest thing that ever happened to me, even if that is not how our tale is told.

A clever woman is more lethal than a freshly crafted magic wand, and that is why she is fear.

Ghosts of the person you used to be are so proud of who you are, they live on inside you applauding you for living on despite your scars.

A story is no small thing.

Fill your life with women that empower you, that help you believe in your magic and aid them to believe in their own exceptional power and their incredible magic too. Women that believe in each other can survive anything. Women who believe in each other create armies that will win kingdoms and wars.

Your body is not a first aid kit for broken people and damaged souls and hearts that are too tired to fix themselves.

You are half fairytale, half girl.

How do you go back to being strangers with someone who has seen your soul?

We have all taken turns being Red Riding Hood and we have all been the wolf.

The craving for ‘the return of the day’, which the sick so constantly evince, is generally nothing but the desire for light.

Ah, but in time the heat of noontide passes, and to it there succeed nightfall and dusk, with a return to the quiet fold where for the weary an the heavy-laden there waits sleep, sweet sleep.

Misuse of reason might yet return the world to pre-technological night; plenty of religious zealots hunger for just such a result, and are happy to use the latest technology to effect it.

Childhood lasts all through life. It returns to animate broad sections of adult life… Poets will help us to find this living childhood within us, this permanent, durable immobile world.

The government is not God. It does not have the right to take away that which it can’t return even if it wants to.

About this business of being a gentleman: I paid so heavily for the fourteen years of my gentleman’s education that I feel entitled, now and then, to get some sort of return.

Who now travels that dark path from whose bourne they say no one returns. [Lat., Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum Illue unde negant redire quemquam.]

Kindness, so far as we can return it, is agreeable.