People think that your soul or personality, whatever, leaves the body when you die. I swear, it just goes further in. It falls so far in and just becomes so small that it can’t control your body anymore. It’s just in there, dying forever.[to Frank Haleton]
You can talk to a wee one in a way you canna talk to anyone else. You can pour out yer heart to them without choosing your words or holding anything back at all. And that’s a comfort to the soul.
Please do not fear for me. I have no fear myself. The old monsters are gone. The old curses have echoed to silence. And if my immortal soul is lost to me, something yet remains. I remain.
Murder gnaws at the soul. Whoever did it will reveal themselves, sooner or later. No killer behaves normally over time.