When you dance with the devil, it might as well be a devil who can give you your own corner of hell to rule.
I sold my soul to the devil. I'd like to thank the devil.
A bruxis. That was the one wish more powerful than a gavriel, and its trade value was singular: The only way to purchase one was with one’s own teeth. All of them, self-extracted.
I've won Satan's lottery.
How much did you get for your soul?
Because it appears to me a hazardous thing to exchange my soul for my shadow.
Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistopheles!
