I once had a class in which we, the students, were asked what is evil?  I can’t remember what our answers were or if they were any good.  I have thought off and on since then of how to define evil. Tonight I think that evil is the thing that finds the soft parts in us and punches at those parts until they are no longer soft.  Evil punches at those parts because evil does not recognize what they are nor would it understand if it was told “these are what the soft parts are and these are what the soft parts mean.”  If evil ever had those soft parts, they are long since gone.  All that is left is immovable and untouchable — a cold, void of solid mass. So, evil punches and punches until the soft gives way to the hard.  It is only then that evil can see the results of its work.  If it had any feeling, it would be pleased to recognize the similar.  That is when it says “ah, you are like me” before it invites you, with your soft parts beaten into an unrecognizable hardness, to join it.  “You will never be the same,” it says coldly but thinks that it is being inviting and warm. What I wonder is whether or not memory can be given back to evil.  “You had soft parts once.”  And, if in giving the memory back, would that make a difference?  Would evil melt into something warm, soft and quivery?  Or, is evil equivalent to being forever gone?  “You will never be the same?”