Oh, it's a fine, fine tale for Halloween -- there's no denying this -- a tale told with such lacerating eloquence, such evocative force and skill that I think it could only have been written by you, Ms. Eldritch. Still, I can't help myself from wishing that that son-of-bitch Ray would have lived in the end, I don't know why. I certainly can't justify it. I won’t even try. On the contrary, I'm on her side. I’m on her side all the way.

And yet I’ve always been a sucker for a redemptive ending. You know why?Because I’m a sentimental fuck.

But I do know that proportionality always finds its own level — because its structure is rooted every bit as much in the structure of the universe as it is in the structure of the human mind.

Nevertheless.