There Was No Point In Waiting Until

Obviously, A Writer Can't Know Everything About What She Writes. It's Impossible.

Perhaps This Is The Only Real Evil Left.

I Know Nothing Of God Or The Devil. I Have Never Seen A Vision Nor Learned A Secret That Would Damn Or Save My Soul.

You Sense My Loneliness, (...) My Bitterness At Being Shut Out Of Life. My Bitterness That I'm Evil, That I Don't Deserve To Be Loved And Yet I Need Love Hungrily. My Horror That I Can Never Reveal Myself To Mortals. But These Things Don't Stop Me, Mother. I'm Too Strong For Them To Stop Me. As You Said Yourself Once, I Am Very Good At Being What I Am. These Things Merely Now And Then Make Me Suffer, That's All

So We Reach Into The Raging Chaos, And We Cling To It, And We Tell Ourselves It Has Meaning, And That The World Is Good, And We Are Not Evil, And We Will All Go Home In The End.