Book: Big dog

Little bitch starts crying in the arms of the husband of the Author, as children cry when very worst is behind us and more will not hurt, and there will be candy, and be calm and your home, and warmth, and love, but we must cry that was. To cry terrible. Starts to cry, as crying children, not when they are not supposed to have pineapple candy, and as they cry in a strong chest, in the calm and serenity from it's already happened, that is not correct, because that has already passed, but it hurt! Hurt! Hurt! And with each little tear terrible past sick leaves, flowing into that part of the timelessness that is to be destroyed, the final burning at the hellish pans. Because hell is not a place of endless torment where all of us and all of them will pay on loans. It is not so. Hell is a furnace, flour utilizing. Burn not sinners. Burns sinners. Who - in life - strange, other - after death - his own. Alas, the temperature in hell fire for all the same, and each degree Celsius is felt with his own skin in both cases. Flour waiting for those and others - all of us - the only difference is how the fabric will remain in place "Hells burn" - the joy of the light or darkness of the void. But the eternal pain will not be none.