QUOTE : Remember it," he said to himself. "Remember this room, the mist upon the field and the evening star, the thrush singing and the voice of the river below the hill. Remember the flames of the candles, the books and the white page under your hand. When you go back you can take this with you. Remember it. Nothing is lost that is stamped upon memory. You may lose it for the time being, you may go mad and curse and rave, but what has once entered into memory is never effaced. Madness passes, memory does not. It is one of the things which is given back to be your heaven or hell. Take this and be thankful, for there will be plenty of hell for you in the place of judgment. That's what judgment is; memory. You remember every shameful thing you ever did, every cruel word you ever spoke . . . . That's hell, and you'll not endure it and live if there's not a sweetness in the air from another's forgiveness and your own remorse, and the hills in the distance touched with this light of beauty recognized, accepted and adored.