Best 106 quotes in «angels and demons quotes» category

Vulnerable attempts of wanting to understand myself and the world around me drove me mad. My ego wanted to run too frequently to protect its vanity, but the angel on my shoulder, my sensitive core, suggested self-awareness to the devil.

What is love, Mikayel? Isn't it the most irrational of all human emotions? And the one most forbidden?

What happens in this book is merely a journey from one evil mind to the next and what happens when the spiritual meets the natural. Let me lift the curtain as we enter the screaming terrors of the demonic and reveal what lies beneath the surface, literally speaking.

When your legs and arms are being torn from your body, you console yourself that you've not yet been beheaded. Of course, right? When you nerves are being extracted strand by strand and your flesh is being dried drop by drop, you simply see past the blood and the bones and think: Hey, at least they haven't torn me apart at the cellular level yet. Unnerving logic.

Ya hafta be there for Beck. He only has you." Riley sighed. "I'll get the car.

You: Are you okay? How could I answer that truthfully? ‘I’m not really okay and I think I might be better if I could just hear the sound of your voice?’ That was a bit too much, my brain decided. Me: Yep My phone rang almost immediately. “You’re not okay,” you said. My heart nearly stopped beating at the sound of your voice. It was incredible, the effect that one particular voice had on me. It steadied me. “How can you tell?” I asked, laughing weakly. I could picture you —well, at least what I imagine of you — wondering if you should say what I somehow already knew you would. “You never say ‘yep’.” “I say it all the time.” “No,” you replied, “you don’t. You say it when you’re trying not to say whatever’s on your mind. So talk.” “I’m fine, just tired and a bit bored, I guess.” Liar, my inner voice said accusingly. You miss him and you know it.

You did well not to speak of this to others. People fear what they do not understand.

You need to know what you are before you can become what you are supposed to be. In order to know what you are now, you must learn what you are going to be.

Young Sathian was flirtatious, titillating, quick-witted, and brilliant. He left a trail of broken hearts across the land as he teased and taunted his victims with his beauty and charm. Both women and men succumbed to his joie de vivre and panache as he was an untypical Ange’el that carried the sunshine in his smile and in his eyes.

You’re all alone. No one wants you anymore. How long did you think we would all stay? You’ve killed each and every person who ever loved you. Even your children won’t want you. They will see what you have done. You must be the first ward in history to treat your guardian so badly that he left you. Do you think your mistress will stay? No. Elizabeth will take what she wanted and then she will leave you too.

You sound skeptical," kohler said. "I thought you were a religious symbologist. Do you not believe in miracles?" "I'm undecided on miracles," Langdon said. Particularly those that take place in science labs. "Perhaps miracle is the wrong word. I was simply trying to speak your language" "My language?" Langdon was suddenly uncomfortable. "Not to disappoint you, sir, but study religious symbology-I'm a academic, not a priest." Kohler slowed suddenly and turned, his gaze softening a bit. "Of course. How simple of me. One does not need to have cancer to analyse it's symptoms.

When had things gotten so tangled in her heart and mind? Everything had been clear at one point, hadn’t it? No, she supposed it never had been perfectly clear.

You still do that thing, you know,” she said. “What thing?” He raised an eyebrow. Miranda smiled. “That thing where you say what I’m thinking. That thing.” “Oh,” Bryan began, “I suppose it comes from years of having to read your mind to figure out what was going on in there.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Your turn.

…In the end we are all just searching for truth, that which is greater than ourselves.

Death is only a byproduct of terrorism.

You’re not his,” Bryan said firmly. “Bry, I don’t know whose I am anymore.

Religion is flawed, but only because man is flawed.

Nothing captures human interest more than human tragedy.

Actions have reactions, nonetheless. People rarely show up at Hell's doorstep clutching a map of bad intentions.

Aimee turned and walked out, giving him a wink and a smile, careful not to part her lips. His reaction to her fangs, as amusing as it may be, would hurt her chances of blending in.” – Aimee (Marked Book #1) page 215

Religion has always persecuted science.

A hand in mine.. hot. Breath on my neck... sweet. The feel of lips on my own... forbidden.

A pang of deep longing ripples through me. I’m torn between my promise to send Aydan to the Abyss and my need to keep him safe. The opposing forces fragment what remains of my mind, breaking me down once again.

As long as you're still walking with the demons of hell! You'll never have the time to slow down to see the angels of heaven behind you.

Beeswax, with its subtle undertones of smoke and honey. The smell of ink on wet paper, the sickly-sweet smell of decay. The sweat of clean bodies, the scent of burnt gloves. She loved the crackle of the fire and the clang of the tools. She loved the magic of sweat-streaked alchemists who blew down metal pipes and created bubbles within molten glass. She loved the flawless final chapter, the glistening undulations as smooth as ice.

Always have a plan, but be prepared to change it at any given moment.

Between death and hell a bridge shining silver wings offers his soul hope.

Both of you are threads in a carefully woven masterpiece of a blanket that is life. Parts of you are weaved into parts of him. There's no changing that.

Angels are good not simply because they see bad as bad, but also because they see bad as corny.

Angels were sent to protect. To interfere when necessary, but never to intrude, or encroach on one's free will. The people would have a different mission. One of proactivity. One of protection. The idea that: could the actions of evil be prevented? ...But there were those in the Human population that not only chose not to believe in the presence of angels, but also chose not to believe in the existence of evil." - #WarAngel (2016)

Dear Sir, I'll gie ye some advice, You'll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels, man, But try and paint the Devil. To paint an angel's kittle wark, Wi' Nick there's little danger; You'll easy draw a lang-kent face, But no sae weel a stranger.

Death walks among us

Death was a living creature. Death was a man tormented by his past. Death was once a human.

Do You Believe?

Do you remember bedtime as a child? I was terrified of the dark. I was terrified of the closed closet door that surely cracked open when I wasn't looking and spewed out ghouls and devils. I took care that no arms or legs protruded from the bed. I sometimes slept with the covers over my head. Sweltering, panting, barely breathing. Not even my hair exposed, lest a monster discover and devour me. I remember begging my father to check under the bed. I remember trying to explain how some monsters had invisibility cloaks. He would kiss my cheek and switch off the light. We stop looking under the bed once we realize that the monsters are inside us. It's funny how they transform. Suddenly they don't mind daylight. Suddenly they dress nicely, speak our language, and share our customs. They sit next to us on the metro and jog around our neighborhoods. They slip things into our drinks at parties and offer us jobs. Sometimes we spot them, sometimes we don't. Sometimes we even do the unthinkable: we invite them to our bed. As adults, we burn down the sanctuaries we created as children. Our inner child freaks out, but its screams are drowned by our moans as our monsters bring us to orgasm.

Dreaming is what you do when your eyes are closed...living is what you do with that dream once you open your eyes!

Everything made sense in a book...Too bad her life wasn’t fiction.

Got A Few Angels Fighting My Demons

Had pretended to be Abbadon of the Dark, when always he had been working for the Light.

He has a beauty to him that is not quite angelic, a quality that's both ethereal and dark. (Jonathan)

Hell and Heaven are states of being, not destinations. They are worlds we carry within. Don't expect to find angels and demons -- not in the way you've envisioned them. As God is called Allah, so Man is called Monster. Don't be fooled by titles. Call a skunk a rose and it will continue to reek. Hydras do not crawl out from between the weatherworn pages of fairytale anthologies. On the contrary, they ride the subway and order food at the local drive-through and enjoy stolen kisses at the cinema. Only one head is visible to the naked eye. They tend to avoid reflective surfaces. Each head is a sin: each belch of fire is a sin put to action. But you should know that the shadows differ. There may be seven heads, or three, or one. Those with one head are particularly tricky. Who's to say if they're human or hydra? You'd have to kiss them, bite them. You would know them by their mouth. The name of their sin is tattooed on the inside of their bottom lip, so they can lick and taste its sweetness.

Hell in life indicates a state of suffering, of agony, of torture (by others, by circumstances, or by ourselves), and of insipid colors and little joy. Hell is a heavy vibration that drags us spiraling down from the highest to the lowest, darkest vibrations..

He looked like the devil. His skin ruddy, his eyes a glowing yellow. Jet black hair slicked back on his head hung to his shoulders. But the demons didn’t call him Devil, or Satan, or even Lucifer. They called him… Azazel.

He looked like a man searching for an out. Any out.

He meant to find her, and make it so they would never part again. He lied to himself when he tried to believe it was curiosity and a desire to make sure she was okay that drove him to hunt her down time after time. It wasn’t about any of that really. He wanted her, and he waited for the chance to have her.”- Marc (Marked Book #1) page 38

He was not her sole companion. She had her demons, too. You can't run from them, as Lexi discovered. Changing cities doesn't help either; you carry them along inside you. You just wake up one day, fed up, and decide to snuggle with them instead. You invite them along as you go about your day, balancing them on your shoulder as you would a toddler, but with very strict conditions: You will not set fire to my hair. You will not take candy from strangers. You will not tie me up in chains while I sleep. You will behave. And Lexi's demons, allowed to come close, sat on her shoulder. They waved to the angels perched on her other shoulder and struck up a conversation with Lexi. 'What's that noise?' her demons asked, sidling close to her ear. 'Oh, that?' Lexi massaged her temples. 'It's the air whistling through the hole in my heart.' 'You're afraid,' they taunted. 'I am,' she admitted. 'Afraid of the sky falling. Afraid of the tight-rope snapping. Afraid I can't dance well enough on the edge. Afraid there are no hands to steady my body. Afraid of hands that wish to cage my heart.' 'Coward,' the demons goaded.

He who writes is the martyr, seen through the eyes of the unassuming doll.

First, you must be certain that you are ready for knowledge. There are many things that we bury in our minds for a reason. Are you sure that you want to go digging up the past?”- Elsie (Marked Book #1) page 226

Gabriel: What’s the point of having power, if one cannot use it? What’s the point of immortality, if one cannot truly live?

His chuckles rumbled, devoid of humor, as if mirth was a kidney stone that had gotten stuck somewhere in the intestinal mess of the phone lines.