Gabriel: My old friend, how is the world of sight and sound?

Satan: Pain and passion; quest and yearning.

Gabriel: Thou never talkest of anything but the heavens. Is there no cure for thy constant pain?

Satan: Thou knowest not, alas, the secret of my pain! The loss I have suffered has increased my passion more. How silent is this world; desolate and wild! I cannot ever live here; I cannot! For one whose despair throbs in the heart of the universe, what is better-despair, or hope?

Gabriel: By thy refusal thou hast lost thy place in heaven – and disgraced the angels in the eyes of the Lord.

Satan: My courage gave a speck of dust the impulse to grow; my cunning is the fabric of man’s intellect. Thou watchest the war of good and evil, safely ashore, and who is battered by the storm-thou or I? Both Khizr and Ilyas feel helpless: The storms I have stirred up rage in oceans, rivers, and streams. Ask God, if thou hast the time to ask: Whose blood gave colour to Adam’s inglorious tale? I am a thorn in the Almighty’s mighty heart, and thou but mumblest His praise day and night.