The Angel of Death is always a young person, or a group of young people, you'll begin seeing them left and right soon.

On a wing and a prayer." (After being asked how the angels make love in Milton's Paradise Lost).

Madness doesn’t get off wearing gloves. It needs to feel skin on skin, smell the blood and shit as it brings itself off.

I’m going to become a beat poet and a lesbian!

Maybe my dissertation really had been as brilliant as he claimed, the truth was I remember almost nothing about it; the intellectual leaps I made when I was young were a distant memory to me, and now I was surrounded by a kind of aura, when really my only goal in life was to do a little reading and get in bed at four in the afternoon with a carton of cigarettes and a bottle; and yet, at the same time, I had to admit, I was going to die if I kept that up – I was going to die fast, unhappy and alone. And did I really want to die fast, unhappy and alone? In the end, only kind of.

Nice dress,” Victoria said.
“Thank you,” Perpetua said. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Victoria blinked. “Uh, what?