From Count Andreas Petofi: Exceeding the Grasp, an autobiographical gift of letters, lore, and lyrics.  Volume II

I knew Quentin was a true brother as he attempted to: a) drug me with powerful intoxicants during a demonic ceremony and, b) have my soul ripped from his immortal form and back into my own body.  It was a desperate gambit dashed by my own constitution, resolve, and constant diet, rich in roughage.  I applaud his maneuver, however.  At that moment, who would not want to be Quentin Collins?


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