“O corse of the Locked Tomb," you extemporized wildly. "Beloved dead, hear your handmaiden. I loved you with my whole rotten, contemptible heart―I loved you to the exclusion of aught else―let me live long enough to die at your feet." Then you went under to make war on Hell.”
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“I've dropped out of their hearts like a little sparrow fallen from its nest.”
“Hell is now. Saying it happens later is a power play.”
“You're from Florida. There's got to be more holes to hell in Florida than in any other state.”
“The wet skeletons of two young hedgehogs still lay on the floor of Hell.”