The finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist. - Charles Baudelaire

The room was filled with deep, raucous sighs, sudden sobs, silent floods of tears. The horrified musician stopped,and going up to the man whose bliss was expressing itself most noisily, he asked him if he was in great pain and what would help to relieve it. But the sick man, his eyes gleaming ecstatically, looked at him with unspeakable contempt. Fancy wanting to save a man sick with too much life, sick with joy!

Late night, and like a medal in the sky
The harvest moon was beaming down,
And, like a river, the solemnity
Of night arranged on the sleeping town.

- Confession

Music pierces the sky.