Best 355 quotes in «demon quotes» category

I believe that on any trip to heaven, there are always detours through hell.

I blew a strand of black hair from my face. “A demon treating another with kindness is something I have yet to see.” “Careful,” the demon whispered. “You may have already seen the rough shape and form it takes in this world, and yet you do not recognize it.

I can’t just take it.’ ‘You can. I’m giving it to you.’ She affirms, glimpsing quickly up at me and then down to the floor, moving her foot once and then back again. Still her hand is offered to me, still flinching with the ring in her palm. ‘What do you want for it?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘You must want something.’ ‘I... got what I wanted.’ She smiles, such a light, smooth movement of her lips, but it dies out so quickly, like a candle light being blown in the wind. ‘What’s that?’ ‘I got to see you again, to give it to you.

I do not want the lying kindness and the gifts of men, nor of other than men. I am armed now.

I don't have a thing," Tengo said, "except my soul." "Sounds like a job for Mephistopheles," she said.

I expect you know what this is, don’t you?” Rincewind stared down at the box. It had a round glass eye protruding from the center of one face, and a lever at the back. Not wholly”, he said. It’s a device for making pictures quickly”, said Twoflower. „Quite a new invention. I’m rather proud of it but, look, I don’t think these gentlemen would – well, I mean they might be – sort of apprehensive? Could you explain it to them? I’ll reimburse them for their time, of course.” He’s got a box with a demon in it that draws pictures”, said Rincewind shortly. Do what the madman says and he’ll give you gold.

I, for example, quiet plainly and simply insist upon annihilation for myself. “No,” they say, “you must go on living, for without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were reasonable, nothing would ever happen. Without you there would be no events, and it is necessary that there should be events.” Well, and so on I drudge with unwilling heart so that there be events, and bring about unreason by command. People think toute cette comedie is something serious, all there unquestionable intelligence notwithstanding. There lies there tragedy. Well, and they suffer, of course, but … al the same they live, they live in reality, not in fantasy; for suffering is also life. Without suffering what pleasure would there be in it? Everything would turn into one single, endless church service: much holy soaring, but rather boring. Well, and I? I suffer, but even so I do not live. I am the “x” in an indeterminate equation. I am one of life’s ghosts, who has lost all the ends and the beginnings, and even at last forgotten what to call myself. You are laughing . . . No, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are eternally angry, you would like there to be nothing but intelligence, but I will tell you again that I would renounce all this empyrean existence, all these honours and ranks just in order to be able to take fleshy form in the person of a seven-pood merchant’s wife and set up candles to God in church. ‘So, you don’t believe in God either?’ Ivan said, smiling with hatred. ‘Well, how can I explain it to you, if you are serious, that is . . . ‘ ‘Does God exist or not?’ Ivan barked, again with ferocious insistence. ‘Ah, so you are serious? My dear little dove, I swear to God I do not know, pour vous dire le grand mot.

I’d trust him with my life… unless a decision came down to my life or his.

I glanced over and saw Wyatt glaring at me. Journey’s “Lovin’ Touchin’, Squeezin’” was playing on the radio. “What?” I asked. “You secretly hate me, don’t you.” He gestured toward the radio. “You can’t stand the thought of me taking a much needed nap and leaving you to drive without conversation. You’re torturing me with this sappy stuff.” “It’s Journey. I love this song.” Wyatt mumbled something under his breath, picked up the CD case, and started looking through it. He paused with a choked noise, his eyes growing huge. “You’re joking, Sam. Justin Bieber? What are you, a twelve-year old girl?” There’s gonna be one less lonely girl, I sang in my head. That was a great song. How could he not like that song? Still, I squirmed a bit in embarrassment. “A twelve-year old girl gave me that CD,” I lied. “For my birthday.” Wyatt snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re a terrible liar. Otherwise, I’d be horrified at the thought that a demon has been hanging out with a bunch of giggling pre-teens.” He continued to thumb through the CDs. “Air Supply Greatest Hits? No, no, I’m wrong here. It’s an Air Supply cover band in Spanish.” He waved the offending CD in my face. “Sam, what on earth are you thinking? How did you even get this thing?” “Some tenant left it behind,” I told him. “We evicted him, and there were all these CDs. Most were in Spanish, but I’ve got a Barry Manilow in there, too. That one’s in English.” Wyatt looked at me a moment, and with the fastest movement I’ve ever seen, rolled down the window and tossed the case of CDs out onto the highway. It barely hit the road before a semi plowed over it. I was pissed. “You asshole. I liked those CDs. I don’t come over to your house and trash your video games, or drive over your controllers. If you think that will make me listen to that Dubstep crap for the next two hours, then you better fucking think again.” “I’m sorry Sam, but it’s past time for a musical intervention here. You can’t keep listening to this stuff. It wasn’t even remotely good when it was popular, and it certainly hasn’t gained anything over time. You need to pull yourself together and try to expand your musical interests a bit. You’re on a downward spiral, and if you keep this up, you’ll find yourself friendless, living in a box in a back alley, stinking of your own excrement, and covered in track marks.” I looked at him in surprise. I had no idea Air Supply led to lack of bowel control and hard core drug usage. I wondered if it was something subliminal, a kind of compulsion programmed into the lyrics. Was Russell Hitchcock a sorcerer? He didn’t look that menacing to me, but sorcerers were pretty sneaky. Even so, I was sure Justin Bieber was okay. As soon as we hit a rest stop, I was ordering a replacement from my iPhone.

If your spirit is persistently harmless or if it has shown itself to you, in a non-threatening way, then you most definitely have a ghost. The ghost can be frightening, by its very nature. But the ghost will never intentionally frighten you. They will be there for three reasons: 1. They used to live there and are attached to the location 2. They are trying to communicate something to the living or 3. They are protective of somebody who lives in the house and so they are “standing guard” so to speak, over the loved one.

I just want you to know, I will not be falling slave to your devil dick and demon tongue. No matter how good they are.

I’m by myself,” she said finally. “No family to speak of.” “I see.” Leaning forward again, he rested his arms against the table. “That must be rather difficult.” “Sometimes.” “And lonely, I imagine. Perhaps that is why you came here tonight?” Her jaw popped under the strain of maintaining decorum. “First: I said I was alone, not lonely. There's a big difference. And second: is that really why you think I'm here?” “I do not know what to think. I know you must have reasons for being here other than what you have already hinted at. Reasons important enough to make an otherwise intelligent woman not only bring food to a stranger so late at night, but also accept his invitation to sit inside an empty motel room without a second thought.” “Why don't you just call me a hooker while you're at it?

I’m a holiday Christian at best and I’d never given much thought to demons. They were an adult version of the boogieman hiding in every kid’s closet.

I miss the stars the most. They give off their light, completely unaware or heedless of the life and death taking place beneath them. It doesn’t matter to them whether the angels win this war. Or the demons. Whether the whole world burns. In the end, they’ll still be there. Constant and true.

Internet is a demon which eventually kills all the emotions inside human heart. Not to mention everything is already virtual.

In the center of the room Sarra the demon hung upside down by one leg, its arms bound behind its back, its suit scuffed-looking. Beneath it, crawling around an intricately scribed circle, a woman with short, curly red hair drew binding symbols with a gold stick. She looked up as I fanned away the smoke that was billowing up from the crack in the tile. "You're a Summoner. Hullo. I'm Noelle. Did you know that you have mismatched eyes?" I walked around the demon. It glared at me. "Yes, I know. Why do you have Sarra strung up by one leg?" She drew another symbol. It flared bright green as soon as the stick lifted from the circle. "It was getting a bit stroppy with me. The Hanged Man always teaches them a few manners. It's retaliating with the smoke. Are those spirits I saw yours, then?" "Yes, they are. There are four others as well. I hate to be a bother, but I'm in a bit of a hurry, what with Christian being held by this one's master and all, so if you could possibly just give me the abbreviated version of what's going on here, I'll be on my way to rescue him." She leaned back on her heels and sucked the tip of her gold stick. "Asmodeus, eh?" The demon snarled. A chunk of ceiling fell behind me. We both ignored it. It just never does to give a demon the satisfaction of knowing it's startled you. "It's a nasty bag of tricks, but I heard through the demonic grapevine that it was weakened and searching for a suitable sacrifice to regain its power," she added. "Well, it can't have Christian; he's mine. Back to the demon, if you don't mind…" She looked up at Sarra, still sucking the stick. "It's a pretty specimen, isn't it? I like the hair gel. Nice touch. The mustache is a bit much, though, don't you think? Makes it look so smarmy." "Um…" "I'm destroying it, so I suppose it really doesn't matter." I blinked and avoided two wine bottles as they flew out of a rack when the demon hissed at the Guardian.

I'm not about love, but in this moment, I wish that I were.

In a world of fog and gray, the youth is a shining being dressed in dark violet, his golden-flecked hair smoothed back from his bronzed temples. He resembles a human, but no man I have ever seen holds himself like a king, like a gleaming statue chiseled from topaz. I swallow. I am standing before a demon, the most beautiful being I have ever seen, and I can’t run. I can only stand in the hushed glade and stare, snowflakes falling in the space between us.

In fact, all the evil you find around you is dwelt in your hearts and not in me". - Samael

In the darkest forest, Where trees bled into the rivers and no light reached the ground. I saw the demon crawling behind me whispering everything I don't want to hear. I screamed and ran to escape it until I lost all my breath and fell on my knees. Until it laughed maniacally and whispered in my ear again "you cannot run from yourself".

It is easy to kill a demon. It is much harder to kill a man.

In those hours he is awake and prowling through the building, he sometimes feels he is a demon who has disguised himself as a human, and only at night is it safe to shed the costume he must wear by daylight, and indulge his true nature.

I sunk to my knees in the spot he had left me. I felt a part of me had just been lost. I was fraught with so many emotions, confused by them all; however, I was hurt more than anything. Hurt to hear him call himself a monster. A monster? Of all the things I thought he was, a monster was not one of them.

It had only been two days – two days – since he’d seen her last, and yet he’d missed her every step of the way. How was that possible? To miss someone you’d scarcely had in your life at all? For all his knowledge, he had no answer, only knew that every moment spent by her side made it that much more difficult to leave again. To accept the incoming battering of noise, the necessary barrenness of his life. The loneliness. He could hear the music of her voice so clearly as she spoke now, every inflection, every intonation. And the world around them, too – birds on the wing and children laughing. Her presence was a continual surprise, one that made him by turns calm and edgy and covetous. And mindful, his responsibilities, self-appointed though they were, crowding back into his mind on a silent sigh. The Descent was still closing in on him, and Dmitri still lived, which meant there was too much left to do and no time for distraction. But still...

It may surprise you to know this, but there are children--some of them teenage boys, just like you--who actually carry on open, honest conversations with their mothers." "I find it very hard to believe that there are other teenage boys just like me." I finished my cereal and stood up. "I also find it a little terrifying.

Meg si voltò verso il suo obiettivo, ma il demone era sparito. Volatilizzato. «Sai, le persone normali non girano con così tante armi e se vedono qualcosa di così violento solitamente scappano.» Meg trasalì e si voltò con il cuore in gola, sentendo la sua voce provenire da dietro di sé. «E tu non sai che solo i vigliacchi attaccano alle spalle?» replicò invece di andare all’assalto, ponendo però l’arma tra di loro. Lui fece una smorfia nel tentativo mal riuscito di mascherare un sorriso. «Considerando che tra noi due sono io quello che si è ritrovato con un buco nello stomaco, direi che è lecito essere prudenti. E poi sono disarmato.» Meg fece saettare lo sguardo verso il suo addome esposto, visto che la maglietta gliel’aveva lacerata lei, ma non c’era nessun segno di ferita. Se non fosse stato per il sangue che gli imbrattava i vestiti avrebbe pensato di averlo mancato. «Vedi qualcosa di tuo gradimento?» le domandò con un sorriso appena un po’ malizioso. Meg intuì di essere arrossita, combattuta tra imbarazzo e ira. Scelse la seconda e tentando di colpirlo con la lama lo redarguì: «Non so come vanno le cose dalle tue parti, ma sappi che non puoi cercare di uccidere una ragazza e allo stesso tempo flirtare con lei!» «Qui l’unica che sta tentando di uccidermi sei tu! E ripetutamente anche!» ribatté lui, schivando i suoi attacchi.

I truly didn’t mean you harm,” he said. “I know,” she whispered, “but you never meant for me to be free, either.

I want to get to know you a little better.’ His hand touches mine, the briefest of touches but I still recoil my hand into the sleeve of my cardigan. His touch is blisteringly hot, I’m sure earlier today when he cupped my cheek I had burn marks. But no, it is just him, just his touch, it sends crazy little shivers throughout my entirety. ‘I don’t understand you… you said you want what you cannot have. Isn’t this a form of torture?’ ‘Does a person who wishes to lose weight not taunt themselves with sweets? Does a person not go by the same window every day, just to glimpse the piece of jewellery they long for, yet can never attain? We torment ourselves every day with things we cannot have. Perhaps it is torture, but perhaps my request is genuine.

I wasn't possessed by a demon. I was the demon.

Look, daddy, Mel gave me a pet!” The boy said excitedly. “He’s called Incy.” Hunter looked down and inhaled sharply at the sight of a large spider in Adam’s little hand. His eyes snapped up to Mel, who was sitting silent and serene in the middle of the floor, obviously pleased with her present. “A spider?” Hunter asked with exasperation. “Fine. Why don’t you get Mel to teach it tricks.

It's a demon, manling! Not a bloody crossbow! I can't just point and shoot!

Lo!" cried the demon. "I am here! What dost thou seek of me? Why dost thou disturb my repose? Smite me no more with that dread rod!" He looked at Cabal. "Where's your dread rod?" "I left it at home," replied Cabal. "Didn't think I really needed it." "You can't summon me without a dread rod!" said Lucifuge, appalled. "You're here, aren't you?" "Well, yes, but under false pretences. You haven't got a goatskin or two vervain crowns or two candles of virgin wax made by a virgin girl and duly blessed. Have you got the stone called Ematille?" "I don't even know what Ematille is." Neither did the demon. He dropped the subject and moved on. "Four nails from the coffin of a dead child?" "Don't be fatuous." "Half a bottle of brandy?" "I don't drink brandy." "It's not for you." "I have a hip flask," said Cabal, and threw it to him. The demon caught it and took a dram. "Cheers," said Lucifuge, and threw it back. They regarded each other for a long moment. "This really is a shambles," the demon added finally. "What did you summon me for, anyway?

Love when you can, and fight when you must, but stand together and never give up, not to the enemy, and not on each other.

Men. They don't ask for directions, but they'll ask a demon for a favor. -Nina

Never. I wouldn’t trade one day I’ve spent married to Clarisse for even an hour of being single again. I need Clarisse like I need air.

Nervous? He grinned. “A little. I have my virtue to consider.” She gave a little wiggle.

Nicholas wanted to scream until his throat bled. Or tear apart a wall of concrete with his bare hands. Anything – anything – to get the woman off his mind. The temptation she offered. The peace, the hope. They were killing him, taking away the need for revenge and replacing it with the need for her. As though she alone could collect the torn pieces of his life, stitch them back together, and help make him whole again. He couldn’t take it, feeling again. Needing again after so many years spent in disconnect. It was too much, and if he hadn’t run from her like a total coward, he would have succumbed – lost himself inside the woman and given up to oblivion without a single ounce of remorse.

Now... all opposed to being rescued, raise your hands, otherwise, I'd like to get the fuck out of here ~Veiron, Her Demonic Angel ~

Philosophy is the creative art of cunning 'Demons' -- it is going to fill human brain and heart with doubt in everything. Even the fact that you do really exist in reality, which seems so obvious and undeniable, becomes a matter of doubt. How can you definitely insist that you are not only bodies brain under the stimulation in such a way that some external being(s) -- supernatural or natural -- feed your brain with the illusory ideas that you are real, and perhaps you are sitting in front of the computer, and reading what is written there. And there is no definite fact that this is not the case, but instead, it is very, very difficult to resist the temptation of philosophical thinking in that direction -- therefore, sooner or later you are going to be involved in such kind of 'demonic' activity, if you are really determined to penetrate deep into mind-blowing questions of philosophy.

Respect emotion!!!It is always valid. Don't just HEAR but LISTEN not with your demon

Ședea singur, ca un înger zvârlit din cer cu aripile cosite, izgonit din iad cu coarnele desprinse și ghearele retezate, nemaiîndrăznind să măsoare nici adâncul cerului,nici al pământului, care deopotrivă îl surghiuniseră; singur, nici înger, nici demon, între oamenii care nu-i erau frați și pe care-i ura fără putere, neputând să-i iubească.

She finally took her first good look at the guy beside her. Kerri's eyes widened...because she could see right through him, all the way to the nineteen-foot Christmas tree on the other end of the brightly-lit mall. "You're a ghost!

She walked empty handed in the street, where everyone sold their dreams. Ignoring the cold stares of the demon, which guarded it and always craved for the taste of the things every soul hid. At the dead end, it leapt on her. Digging the nails deep into her chest, in the search of the dreams, she hid. Only to be destroyed by the light shot from her heart. The light that blinded the whole world, setting the dreams of others free.

She watched him for a long moment, an adorably annoyed frown wrinkling her forehead. "You're obnoxious when you're right.

[...] Sivesh cried one name aloud. It was the name of Azhrarn, and in that name was all the pain and loneliness and despair and accusation that any mortal throat could utter.

Some people just can’t grasp how powerless they are. I like the spirited ones. Most of the time you hateful creatures throw yourselves into submission—weak-minded and feeble. Breaking the broken is no fun at all.

So you went bike riding, then," she said. "Just around town? Out on the forest trails somewhere?" "Yes," I said, "we went out to Forman's place." Her face twisted, eyes widening, eyebrows curling, nostrils flaring. It was her "shocked" face, with a dash of "confused." "Really?" "Of course not," I said, "but the face you just made almost makes this conversation worth it.

The caves were pressing down on Monica. The walls were caving in. She could hear the earth rumbling, threatening to crush her. Huge boulders fell, ready to smash her flat, but she wasn't afraid. She was a demon; the earth was hers to command.

The demonic face stared up at him. It had horns, a Snidely Whiplash mustache and a nasty grin.

The demon at length fell to singing a gentle, flickering little song. It was not in any language Sophie knew - or she thought not, until she distinctly heard the word "saucepan" in it several times...