The Space Between

The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.

You asked about love. I don't know about love, Daphne. I just know I don't want anything but you. I don't want to anywhere but with you.

Once, my mother told a whole host of angels that she’d rather die than go back to a man she didn’t love.

Love is when you care more about something else than you do about yourself.

Tender," she said again. "Tender is kind and gentle. It's also sore, like the skin around an injury.

All my life, I've understood the nature of where I come from, but I never thought it might be wicked until now.

Let me tell you a little bit about demons. They love pain and other people’s misery. They lie when it suits them and don’t see anything wrong with it. They corrupt and kill and destroy, all without conscience. You just don’t have the capacity for something as honorable as loving another person.

I've never been impulsive. It's always been in my nature to consider things carefully and then decide upon the best solution. Except, sometimes the circumstances change. Sometimes things get so complicated and so bad that your nature just doesn't matter anymore.

He knew how useless words could be. How even when you wanted more than anything just to hear someone say they understood, it didn’t make you feel better. Not really.

My father's answer was revenge-has always been revenge-and the outcome was just, but not better. Nothing is fixed.

People make decisions, and maybe you don't always agree, but those choices are still their own.

That was the thing about being bereaved. People were overcome with sympathy. They did things for you without even considering whether or not it was the right thing to do.

He smiles an honest smile for the first time, and the difference is hard to describe but easy to recognize.

It’s not the wisest thing - love - but when it happens, there’s not a lot you can do to stop it. Sometimes you just have to soldier on through.

It's strange, but seeing something broken is somehow worse when you can tell that it used to be beautiful.

The world is full of unused corners.

Her smile doesn't look any more real than mine. I wonder if she has to practice too.

Suddenly, I understand what Petra has always been trying to tell me. The whole time she was mumbling her litany of stories, she was always only telling me one thing. Love is when you care more about something else than you do about yourself.

I just want that, the way I feel when you kiss me. Just having it makes all the bad things better.

Truman Flynn is a piece of paper in my coat pocket. He is a memory of water and of loss, his hand sliding free from mine, no way to hold on.

You asked me about love. I don't know about love, Daphne. I just know I don't want anything but you. I don't want to be anywhere but with you.

...the pain of loss would get better eventually...It didn't get better, it just got different.

I'm not about love, but in this moment, I wish that I were.

...the pain of loss would bet better eventually...It didn't get better, it just go different.