“Most nights Claire disappeared into the crafts room, or had never come out of it in the morning. Technically no crafts emerged from this part of the house. We named it once with the hope that someone, sometime–a future child of ours, perhaps–would go in there and be productive, make something pretty or useful or interesting. Such were our speculations for the children we might have. They would fashion objects that glowed or spoke, and we would sit in wonder as we held their tremendous work in our hands. Our children would solve some fundamental boredom we could not escape, and it would happen here. We could not wait to feel proud of something like that.”

                     --Ben Marcus, The Flame Alphabet, 2012

“THE SOUND OF HER BOOT STRIKING AN EMPTY WHISKEY BOTTLE INTERRUPTS HER BROODING…AND YET REINFORCES HER SENSE OF ALONENESS AND DESPAIR. FOR ALL AT ONCE SHE BECOMES AWARE OF THE SQUALOR LOOMING OVER HER, DWARFING HER, ENGULFING HER IN ITS COLD, GRIMY MAW. BUT THE ESSENCE OF A SLUM IS NOT TO BE FOUND MERELY WITH THE EYE, SUCH A PLACE HAS ITS OWN AURAL STIMULI. GRUNTS…HISSES…THE CLACK OF METAL AGAINST METAL…EVEN ON SO BITTER A NIGHT AS THIS…TEMPERS MAY FLARE, PASSIONS MAY BURN…MEN MAY DIE!”

                     --Steve Gerber, THE DEFENDERS, Vol. 1, No. 22, 
                             "Fangs of Fire and Blood!" 1975