I summoned the devil in all the coaxing dulcet tones of a lover to make a little trade. He appeared to reply in something sounding suspiciously like amusement that contrary to popular belief, he did not buy souls. Why, he wondered would he bother with such trivial humanities? so I plucked from my chest the thing in question that he might know there are not so many stars in the sky as neurons firing in my mind. and I showed him exquisite pain and deliriously beautiful sadness anger so searing I shook to contain it All the things a devil delights in cannot be felt so deeply as by a soul that has tasted misery again and again and lived to wish to tell the tale. He moaned in half-ecstasy tones thick with desire to name my price. I asked only for peace at last How cruel! he cried, not un-admiringly To make one long for something so desperately and name a price they cannot pay. For peace, he said Can only be found through one's own demons It comes from acceptance of one's self entirely; not absence. So I left, having wrung good advice from the devil himself.