What does all this mean finally, I kept asking like a college kid. Why does it make me want to cry? Maybe it’s that we are all outsiders, we are all making our own unusual way through a wilderness of normality that is just a myth.

For me, places have a tremendous impact. I fall in love with places. All of life seems different in different places.

But I still did not realize how mad she was, and how accustomed to dreaming; and that she would not cry out for reality, rather would feed reality to her dreams, a demon elf feeding her spinning wheel with the reeds of the world so she might make her own weblike universe.

I am an unwilling devil. I cry like some vagrant child. I want to go home.

You make me miserable. You really do, I want you to know that. Much as I love you, much as I need you, much as I can't exist without you, you make me miserable.

A perfectly evil Devil makes even less sense than a perfect God.

I know nothing, because I know too much, and understand not nearly enough and never will.