Hell (n.) has no racks and no red-hot pincers — only Second Empire furniture you didn't choose and a bronze ornament you will stare at forever.
Hell (n.) saves on staff: like a cafeteria where customers serve themselves, each of the damned acts as torturer of the others.
Hell (n.) has a solidarity like a cobweb: if one of us raises a hand to fan herself, the other two feel a little tug.
Hell (n.) poses the question of the first choice — if man is free even in hell, why does he almost always first choose hell, inauthenticity, so that salvation must be a new beginning neutralizing the first?