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All that beauty, it’s wrapped around loneliness. You think I didn’t taste it? You’re practically hollow.
In the past, he had told her that all he ever wanted was the truth, as plain as she could make it.
So you are a child of love. It seems right, that you were made by love.’ She had never thought of herself in that way, but after he said it, it struck her as a fine thing, to have been made by love.
[He] broke away. It was quick as shattering – a lurch and he was up, leaving behind the jagged edges of the moment.
Her ignorance was like standing in pure dark that could be either a closet or a vast, starless night.
Long life is a burden, when it’s spent in misery.
‘Beauty,’ Brimstone had scoffed once. ‘Humans are fools for it. As helpless as moths who hurl themselves at fire.’
After she had cried, she felt at once hollow and . . . better, as if the salt of all her unshed tears had been poisoning her, and now she was cleansed.