My part is my own.
Let us murder the people tonight.
Leave everything you were outside this door. Everything you are, bring with you.
Kneel, child. You will be flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.
It is too easy being monsters. Let us try to be human.
In the end, we must be that thing the world demands of us. We must take the lust and the avarice and the ambition and bury them. All the alien, ugly things! All the things we really are!
If I’m to be pent up, I’ll choose my own cell.
I have been touched by Satan. My weakness allowed it. My faith was not strong enough and Lucifer came to me. I didn’t fight him strongly enough. I don’t know that I fought him at all.
I have been much feared and hated in my life. By my people, by yours. These marks mean I was a slave trader. It is my sin to live with. But in this house I have found kindness among the unkind.
I annihilated a tribe. I betrayed my family. I slaughtered women and children, and murdered my friend, and I will send my father to hell, and laugh while I do it. I’m done trying to be good.
I am nothing. I am no more than a blade of grass. But I am. You think you know evil? Here it stands.
Hunting a man is no great thing. They are slow and predictable. They can be found always where their appetites lead them. To eat, to sleep, to f***. Man is no great thing.
