You could have kissed me or slit my throat and either would have made as much sense.

I dove down deep into your psyche, turning over every word you gave me like a jewel. Looking for meaning, seeking out the mysteries of you. I didn’t care if I lost myself in the process. I wanted to be brought by the hand into your world and disappear into your kiss until us two could no longer be told apart.

You can’t corrupt someone just by touching them,” Gerda said. “We corrupt ourselves, with the choices that we make, and I don’t think yours were wrong.

I was tried of being your Magdalene. I was tried of waiting expectantly at your tomb every night for you to rise and bring light into my world once again.

She was even more beautiful like this, when she didn’t veil her emotions behind formality. Helvig would never have guessed that a girl who seemed carved from ice would melt over something as silly as a common deer.

How freely he offered himself up! All the enthusiasm of youth with non of the wisdom and caution of age.

War is the whetstone that grinds down all sense, all humanity.

You liked me best when I was like an oil painting; perfectly arranged and silent.

She looked wild as a pagan goddess and bright as an icon of Mary, sanctity and sin all shining together as one.

Loving something doesn’t mean that you own it.