“The city defeated him. It refused to be bent into shape; it stayed a willful, sprawling, sinful place. It even told him as much. When he walked through the gutted wreck of old Saint Paul's, he tripped and fell over a piece of rubble -- a tombstone. When he got to his feet and dusted himself down he saw that it read, in Latin, 'Resurgam' -- 'I Will Rise Again.”

“But never underestimate the human capacity to bear pain, Frida, to tolerate it, and then, eventually, even to welcome it,’ she goes on. ‘It’s a sickness, really.”

Avant que le rideau de l’Au-delà ne se referme, le regard de Nyx se posa sur moi. La déesse sourit. Elle paraissait plus jeune et plus heureuse que jamais. Puis, très distinctement, Nyx, déesse de la Nuit, me fit un clin d’œil.