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“In a press interview at the time, Gable said, “My days of playing the dashing lover are over. I’m no longer believable in those parts. There has been considerable talk about older guys wooing and winning leading ladies half their age. I don’t think the public likes it, and I don’t care for it myself. It’s not realistic. Actresses that I started out with like Joan Crawford and Barbara Stanwyck have long since quit playing glamour girls and sweet young things. Now it’s time I acted my age.

“Let’s be honest,â€� he continued. “It’s a character role, and I’ll be playing more of them. There’s a risk involved, of course. I have no idea if I can attain the success as a character actor as I did playing the dashing young lover, but it’s a chance I have to take. Not everybody is able to do it.”
― Warren G. Harris, Clark Gable: A Biography

“I have come for a throne this time."
He smiled, and my legs wobbled with relief.
"Have you?" he said. "Well, why not? This kingdom has been ruled by halfbloods and housekeepers; a mortal queen is hardly going to lower us further."
And just like that, I was on solid ground. Solider, at any rate; whatever else this man was, he was every bit as snobbish as the majority of the courtly fae.
"Why not take the throne yourself, if you are so bothered by the pedigree of its previous occupants?" I asked, which was brazen, but then many of the courtly fae are charmed by boldness in mortals, in much the same way that we coo when a kitten bares its teeth.
He snorted. "I value my neck, that's why. Which I have managed to keep intact for many centuries--- far longer than those who covet power in this bloody wolf's den of a court."
This was so far from what I had expected that I was silent for a moment. "Wise of you," I said.
The malicious amusement was back. "Thank you--- I cannot tell you how highly I value the opinions of mortals, particularly young girls who cannot stop themselves from stumbling into violent faerie realms.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Each of us lives by setting traps for the other. The one and the other live in an endless affinity, an affinity which endures until prostration decides the issue.
Everyone wants their other. Everyone has an imperious need to put the other at their mercy, along with a heady urge to make the other last as long as possible so as to savour him. The opposing logics of the lie and the truth unite in a dance of death which is nothing but pure delight at the other's demise. For desire for the other is always also the desire to put an end to the other (albeit, perhaps, at the latest possible moment?). The only question is which one will hold out the longest, occupying the space, the speech, the silence, the very inner world of the other - who is dispossessed of himself at the very moment when he becomes one in his difference. Not that one kills the other: the adversary is simply harassed into desiring, into willingly acceding to his own symbolic death ... The world is a perfectly functioning trap.
An otherness, a foreignness, that is ultimately unintelligible - such is the secret of the form, and the singularity, of the emergence of the other.”
― Jean Baudrillard, The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena