Hell has a notoriously bad nightgown shortage.
"No way was clear, no light unbroken, in the forest. Into wind, water, sunlight, starlight, there always entered leaf and branch, bole and root, the shadowy, the complex. The collaboration of living things with the long, elaborate death of leaves and trees… The view was never long, unless looking up, through the branches you caught sight of the stars. Nothing was pure, dry, arid, plain. Revelation was lacking. There was no seeing everything at once: no certainty."
- Ursula K. Le Guin, from The Word for World is Forest, 1972
"[Writing is a way] to think through what it means to be in this world. I definitely write to reach other people, but I write for myself first. I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. It’s just that this is me trying to make sense of my place, and how did I get here, and why am I so lucky in some ways, and so unlucky in others? So it starts with me, and then I move beyond the self, as much as I can."