Your Plans Are Suicidal. At Best.

Glory?....glory Belongs To God Alone.

Keeping Demons From This World Is Your Mandate, A Mandate From Heaven. And A Mandate From Heaven Isn't Something You Can Just Ignore.

She Had Thought She Was Going To Save Her Mother, And Now There Was Going To Be Nothing For Her To Do But Sit By Her Mother's Bedside, Hold Her Limp Hand, And Home Someone Else, Somewhere Else, Would Be Able To Do What She Couldn't.

The Young Man Who Appeared At The Mouth Of The Alley Was Pale In The Lamplight—paler Even Than He Usually Was, Which Was Quite Pale Indeed.

Now I Wonder All The Time How You Go Back After Something Like That. Whether We Can Ever Be Friends Again, Or If What We Had Is Broken Into Pieces. Not Because Of Her, But Because Of Me.