ever, never. ever, never.

A few days ago, as I was reading Joyce's The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man I became entranced by the way Hell was described by that one priest or some guy from the church. Eternal fires burning in darkness, never giving off light. That was quite interesting. Skipping ahead, I previewed Stephen's confession session with a priest. Sins of impurity with himself and women. Whoo. So that's what was going on at the end of that last chapter.

Been comparing Cary Grant and Gregory Peck today. I had some difficulty differentiating the two for a time, but now I think I can tell. I think.