“You are mortal. You age, you die. If that is not hell, pray tell me, what is?”

“But unlike you," said Jace, "there is nothing of hell in us.""You are mortal; you age; you die," the Queen said dismissively. "If that is not hell, pray tell me, what is?”

“Some mortals--like you--are already half in love with death. It is who you are, and I'll not make it harder on you by telling you things you don't need to know. Ask me again when you die. Then I'll tell you everything, anything, nothing.”

“Will you calm down for a minute, you psycho chicken, and tell me what the hell is going on?”

“And what is hell? Can you tell me that?”“A pit full of fire.”“And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?”“No, sir.”“What must you do to avoid it?”I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: “I must keep in good health, and not die.”

“Tell me how you want to die, and I’ll tell you who you are.”