We In Purgatory Sing Fondly Of Hell.

How Could I Do It, How Could A Person Go That Low? And I Understand Your Question, To Which I Reply, Are You Kidding? That's Nothing. I'd Been Much Lower Than That. And I Expected To See Myself Do Worse.

Memories Assailed Him Of How Gently She Had Spoken, Touched, And Moved; Of How She'd Loved Him Fiercely Despite His Mistakes And Obsessions And Weaknesses. And The Conviction Descended On Him That Love Like Theirs Couldn't Possibly Suffer Any Change.

I Was Probably 35 When I Wrote The First Story. The Voice Is Kind Of A Mix In That It Has A Young Voice, But It's Also Someone Who's Looking Back. I Like That Kind Of Double Vision.

They Needed To Share One Secret After Another With A Beautiful Woman, To Peel Away Layer After Layer, Mask After Mask, And Still Find Themselves Worshiped.

Will You Believe Me When I Tell You There Was Kindness In His Heart? His Left Hand Didn't Know What His Right Hand Was Doing. It Was Only That Certain Important Connections Had Been Burned Through. If I Opened Up Your Head And Ran A Hot Soldering Iron Around In Your Brain, I Might Turn You Into Someone Like That.