As he enters the Third Circle of Hell, Dante is faced with an awful sight. All around his feet, the Gluttonous writhe and moan in a deep, stinking mire. No matter where he turns, he sees their miserable forms on the ground. A cold, hard, heavy rain falls eternally. Huge hail stones, sleet, and snow constantly pelt the damned souls and create a filthy slush on the ground over and around the tormented souls. If you can picture a bunch of pigs in a muddy pen, it's like that, only a lot worse.   Lovely!