If you haven’t read this duet yet, maybe these amazing quotes will convince you.
Don’t worry, this post is spoiler-free!
Trisha Wolfe is an incredible writer (one of my all-time favorites)… and here is the proof.
Shame is the conception of most sins against ourselves.
“What do you want?” A simple question, but the answer will determine everything. His steely gaze latches on to me. “I want to live. And I want you.” Time suspends.
Change is the one constant you can depend on.
Which rules do we obey? Those of man, or those of the universe? On a long enough timeline, the rules of man change, and they change quite often. What was once considered a sin punishable by death is now a simple social media update, an expression of sexual preference, politics, religious belief. A hundred years from now, sin in its current state might be a laughable pastime, the way we look back on our ancestors who once believed the world was flat. Or the way we resent the ignorance of the Salem Witch Trials.
When gravity makes itself known, we’re powerless to stop the collision. Knowing you’re being drawn into a black hole does little to prevent the inevitable.
I feel the force of his words, the lure reeling me in—and I’m powerless against it. I want more. I want to shut the blinds and block out the judgmental world and only exist in this one hour where shame doesn’t live.
When I look into his eyes, I see myself. Not a reflection of the woman—but the hollow echo of my blood-stained soul.
If he’s evil, then am I in danger of falling for the devil, or am I the devil herself?
My own design of love may be a twisted creature, but that creature is hungry and demands to be fed.
Stunned, I stare down at him. “You’re a monster.” “I’m your monster.
I’ve paid my dues to this world, a world that robbed me early on, that fashioned me into a killer and now wants to punish me for it. I owe it nothing.
She is my salvation. And I am her long-awaited consequence.
“I hate you,” I whisper. “You hate everything but me.”
From the very beginning, people have divided good and evil. Two beings fighting for dominance. I don’t believe in divine beings. Life is simpler than that. We’re our own gods and devils. Capable of the vilest evil and of the holiest righteousness. We make our own rules, and create our own heavens and hells. We choose them every day.
“We weren’t born the day we took our first breath. We were born the moment we stole it.”
When pain is the only emotion you’ve ever known, it’s all you crave. It lets you know you’re alive.
But the higher we climbed, drugged on each other, ruling over a damned world that bowed and trembled before the god-like monsters we’d become, the harder our fall.
We are perfection. And we are the fear that lurks beneath it.
She’s the artist and I’m her canvas, waiting for her to complete our story.
A pained expression creases his features. He doesn’t have to say a word, because I’m feeling the same constriction in my chest. The unbearable affliction of not enough.
The danger lies in whether or not we’ll survive each other.
“I love the look on your face right now,” Grayson says as he feathers my hair over my shoulder delicately. “Like someone is about to suffer.”
“Epiphany,” he repeats, a calm expression softening the sharp lines of his features. That rare dimple carves his cheek. “You were my epiphany.”
Doubt is a festering sore. It starts out small, barely noticeable, but you know it’s there. The more you touch it, probe it, worry it, the bigger it gets, until it’s a black, gaping wound.
“What do you feel?” I ask. His glacier blue eyes flick over my face. “Fascinated.”
Love is pain. Real love—the one not spewed in poetry—is agony.
I’ve heard scholars argue that these men were mad—but what is genius if not madness?
I’m a devil with a heart. Pure lunacy. But then, even the devil loves passionately, ardently, coveting this world…so much so that he rebuffed heaven.
Good things don’t emerge from basements and cellars… Dark things do. Demons burned by the light.
“I’m not the hero, London,” I say. “But I’m not the villain, either.”
I walk inside, and as soon as I see her, my heart lurches. It only ever beats for her.
Not all demons are born to the dark. And not all angels seek the light. Sometimes our circumstance demands a fusion of both. There is no good and evil. Only the time spent between both heaven and hell, where we find our peace. And love. Even the vilest of monsters deserve to be loved.
This duet is now available on audio! Find it here.