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Man is the cruelest animal. —Friedrich Nietzsche
Women. What petty creatures they could be. So ruled by emotion. It could be their strength, too, of course. But most often, it controlled them, rather than the other way around. Pity.
Money could buy you your own brand of justice.
Anger sharpens the mind. Fear clouds it.
if there’s any chance God exists, we need him now more than ever.”
He’d found that, in all matters, both consequential and not, a much cooler head prevailed when one could remove their own feelings and sympathies.
Like secret languages, bonds formed extremely quickly, as well, if they were nurtured even the barest bit.
You’re so hot when you’re mad.
He rarely drank alcohol. He didn’t enjoy a dulling of his sharpness, and he didn’t require being anesthetized, either physically or mentally.
I love you, and it’s why, when this is over, I’ll let you go. Again.
That was a wonderful realization, too, to know that she could find her own pleasure but also that she took satisfaction from witnessing that of the man she was with.
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. —Friedrich Nietzsche
“They say this is where the monsters are housed, but I know that’s not true. The true monsters? They’re out there.” He jerked his head toward the window. “And they run in packs. They always run in packs.”
Where there was evil, there was always money.
“Most things are just a matter of time,” he said. “It’s very difficult to believe when you’re in the midst of the pain.”
Time didn’t necessarily make the pain disappear entirely, but it sanded the sharp edges.
Find happiness.” “I have found happiness.” “Find more. Go after it with gusto in whatever way you are able. You did not crawl out of that cage to live a timid life.”
sometimes the dark is beautiful, and without it, we wouldn’t see the moon.”
“Like the turtles. An inborn instinct to survive, to head toward the light.
She’d discovered that the practice of letting go of that which was out of her control was a valuable one.
“The only men with wealth are the dangerous ones,”
She suddenly understood why people were hoarders. Those who had lost so much already were scared to death of losing more. And so they held on, no matter the terrible clutter and filth it created.
It was hard to fully enjoy someone—or anything, for that matter—when you were struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together.
What a wonderful thing to lose and be able to say no big deal.
If hate was darkness, then their love would be the light.
They were like an explosion, like a galaxy melting, like the hottest fire that ever burned.
They’d seen each other’s souls, and maybe once you’d seen a soul, it belonged to you in some profound way that could be felt but not explained.
The world was their playground, and for them, nothing was unavailable.
What spoke of your own power even more strongly than possession? Destruction. True kings not only invaded. They pillaged too.
Never take anything wonderful for granted, no matter how much of it you have.
