"In Miami, there's nothing going on. Everybody's depressed; everybody's trying to get jobs, feed their families. At three in the morning you see the fiends just walking around, ready to eat. Evil spirits lurking."

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How could people like these, without words to put to their emotions and passions, manage? They could, at best, only suffer dumbly. Their pains and humiliations would work themselves out in their characters alone: like evil spirits possessing a body, so that the body itself might appear innocent of what it did.

— V. S. Naipaul