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There is no understanding the villain since evil only seeks evil, cause and effect confused wherever plans of villains go. When you ask, "why did you do that?" the question means you'll never know, poor reasoner, undone by reason. Was it revenge? Does winter exist because summer happened to be a season? Can one man be everything? The villain wills it so--- and plans succeed since you, poor playwright, pretend to know. Everything conspires to be evil in places of partial learning where you and I were yearning, yearning, yearning, solid custom burning, burning, our whispers, hinting at the tragic, brought us to oblivion's edge, and, darkly, we glimpsed, darkly, the magic. Poisoned poetry laughed, yet laughed tragically, lacking all the heavenly harmony dreamed up by the children's army. We were alone, whispering to each other, not our spouses. Why? Kiss me, kiss me. Not there! Here. Kiss me there and I will die.
