Sometimes he caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought that in her eyes he would ascent to an angelical stature and, as he attached the fervent nature of his companion more and more closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognised as his own, insisting on the soul's incurable lonliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said we are our own.
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The snot green sea. The scrotum tightening sea.James Joyce
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That had his sweet hours many a one;
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We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping you're well and not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the frying pan of life into the fire of purgatory.
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