Do you still want me to go to hell? I must admit, I don't know the way.

I love you like the devil loves his pitchfork. I love you like the angel loves his wings. I love you from here to heaven, through hell and back again.

Yes, and you did it spectacularly. They were the best non words ever not spoken.

I steal from the rich to give to myself.

The monitor presently shows the Windows Blue Screen of Death, though this does not alarm him, as the BSoD is the universal screen saver in Hell.

When I was extremely young and shockingly stupid, I thought you weren't supposed to ever get angry at anybody you cared about (lest you suspect I'm exaggerating the "shockingly stupid" part, I also thought Mount Rushmore was a natural phenomenon). I honestly believed that people who were truly in love would never dream of having a good, old-fashioned, knock-down, drag-out fight. I guess when you're the type of girl who walks around thinking that the wind just sort of sculpted Teddy Roosevelt into the side of a mountain, the concept of a fairy-tale relationship makes total sense.