Maybe heaven was innocence, limbo was ignorance, and hell was fiery illumination.

Pye turned his paw over and chewed his claws. “Humph. What you think of me is none of my business.”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know more than you . . . Know what?”
“You are dead.”
Pye patted his paws. “No, I’m not.” He rolled on his back and stretched, enjoying the warmth of the fire.
“I’ve been here since 1665.”
Pye chuckled. “You are, if I may so, in remarkably good condition.” Apart from the hole in your head, missing tail, and pulmonic plague cough.
“I’ve seen them come. Seen them go. Seem them hang around in limbo. That’s what it’s called when beings don’t leave this Earth.”
“Purgatory!”
“I am responsible for many deaths,” Rita said.
“You!?”
“They couldn’t build the graves fast enough to bury the bodies.”
“I don’t understand how a mere stump-tailed fur ball could endanger life.”
“If I were you I'd think that.” A silence followed before Rita said, “I did not work alone.”
“Oh?

Адът е тук и сега. Раят също. Престани да се плашиш от ада и да мечтаеш за рая, защото и едното, и другото е заложено в настоящия миг. Всеки път, когато се влюбим, се въздигаме в рая. Всеки път, когато мразим, завиждаме или се опълчваме срещу някого, падаме право в адския огън.

A road to hell is wide, beautiful, attractive and easy. A road to heaven is narrow, full of bumps and hard.

Or, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains, holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell.

That is heaven, this is hell.