“He looked like a fallen angel, replete with all the dangerous male beauty that Lucifer could devise.”

“Darkness as well as light. Or do I mean darkness, another kind of light? Lucifer would say so, and I have a weakness for fallen angels.”

“He is dangerous, he is beautiful, I could drown in his understanding.”

“(Looking at their son on ultrasound.)
He looks like an angel. (Cassandra)
I don’t know. I think he looks like a frog or something. (Wulf)”

“He’s so beautiful,” she said wistfully. “He’s like an angel.”
“Yep,” I agreed flatly. “The one that fell.”

“these sobering sights I've seen
in the City of Angels
have all been one rude awakening
that was due to me
in this city of fallen angels”

“Childish raptures! said Lucifer, with scorn, his eyes flashing like lightning. "Are we indeed whimpering and craven children, or slaves? Can we be content with toys and little deliciousnesses? Are we not mind, as well as emotion? And is not the mind, of both angel and man, the noblest of possessions, and worth exercising. It is in our minds that we approach the closest of Him, Who is all Mind. Mind is the creator of all philosophy, all order, all beauty, all satisfaction, but emotion is the lowliest of the virtues, if it is a virtue at all. Mind has in it the capacity to know all things, or, at least, the minds of angels.”

“The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil.”

“Like all the rich he could not bring himself to believe that the poor (look at their houses, look at their clothes!) could really suffer. Like all the cultivated he believed that only the widely read could be said to know that they were unhappy.”

“He kisses like… like it could be his job.” Margot giggles and lifts the spoons off her eyes. “Like a male prostitute?”