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“If you are a pastor there is no way you can lose faith without losing face, you are considered the devil incarnate by your former congregation”
― Bangambiki Habyarimana, Pearls Of Eternity

“I gave you everything," Hal shouted.
"No, you took everything!" she yelled back. "You took my name away!"
Hal looked as bewildered as if she'd slapped him. Then his jolly, reasonable look was back, the mask once again in place.
"Daisy," he said, his voice calm.
"That's not my name!" she shrieked.
He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, as he'd done so many times before, to hold her still, to instruct her, and in her head she ducked and saw Hal stumbling forward, grabbing for the wobbly post, the one that had never been repaired. She saw his feet skid on the slick surface of the deck, saw his arms pinwheeling, hands groping, reaching for her, for help that wouldn't come. She saw him fall, thudding down one, two, three, four, five, six flights of stairs, to lie, broken and motionless, on the sand, limbs twisted, eyes open to the rain. She saw herself look down at him, seeing nothing but a male body around a man-shaped void. Not a man at all, but a creature with cold, flat eyes, a monster with instincts for self-preservation and a species of low cunning, but not a man, not a person who had loved her, or anyone.”
― Jennifer Weiner, That Summer

“Aye, that was him in a nutshell, veiled in secrets and stories, dark smuts that would either stick or be cleaned away. In the semidarkness, he was more shadow than person, more darkness than light. The devil was incarnate, sitting opposite, making secret pacts with her, asking her to sign over her soul.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife