Best 1914 quotes in «hell quotes» category

I have my own matches and sulphur, and I'll make my own hell.

I have to believe in reincarnation. believing that I'll be in one place forever is a hell in itself.

I have wrote my name in hell,” Brian McFee had said as he was dying on the sawdust of the floor in the Bent Ridge Tavern.

I just want to know if I can go to Heaven. That's all I want in life, salvation in the next.

I laughed, "I don’t have a CHANCE IN HELL of ever turning COLE DRIVER GAY. He's straighter than NEIL PATRICK HARRIS.

I leaned against my door, struggling to catch my breath, and thought that maybe hell wasn't a place at all, but a thing. A contagious thing. A thing that could creep up the steps, seep through the crack under my door, grow horns and sprout fire - smelling faintly like sulfur. A thing that could sink its tendrils inside and take root, coloring everything gray and distorting a smile into a sneer. And while i got dressed for the play, swatted at my back and kept running my hands over my stomach because I could feel it, I swear, I could feel it reaching for me, trying to grab hold.

I left her wallpapering her much-loved, much-tended little corner of hell.

I know you're more than fae." She just grinned. "It's true, I'm part fae, part awesome.

I learned by heart the lines of your face. I can draw them blindly on a water canvas. Your face in the middle of an inflamed argument. Your face in the middle of a mild one-- when you're at fault. Your face filled with rainbows of laughter. Your face filled with clouds of distress. Your face, fluttering, when I open you the door. Your face, agonizing, every time I stand waiting, for the elevator. Your face, eager, when you kiss me. Your face, surprised, when I lead you to bed. Your face in the middle of pain. Your face on the outskirts of pleasure. Your face, with a baffled look, when you wake up. Your face falling asleep, with total surrender. Your face the first night we met. Your face the last night we parted. I learned by heart the lines of your face. They all led me into hell. They all led me into heaven.

Il Dio aveva la facoltà di essere ovunque e da nessuna parte contemporaneamente. L'Inferno era diventato, nel corso del millenni, un'espansione della sua stessa anima nera.

I left that church with rich and royal hatred of the priest as a person, and a loathing for the church as an institution, and I vowed that I would never go inside a church again. [Eugene V. Debs, describing his teenage reaction to a hellfire lecture by a priest]

I look around and think: Good God, what kind of hell is this?

I love you," Matt said. I love you, too," Maria replied. "I know that's a sin, and I'll probably go to hell for it." If I have a soul, I'll go with you," promised Matt.

I love you like the devil loves his pitchfork. I love you like the angel loves his wings. I love you from here to heaven, through hell and back again.

il y a toute cette autre pensée de la guerre, non pas virile, exaltante, source de grandeur ou d'accomplissement de soi, mais tout simplement nécessaire car l'alternative à cette guerre ce ne serait pas la paix mais l'enfer...(ch. 5 La nostalgie de la guerre)

Imagine a very long time passing - and I find my way out, following someone who already knows how to leave Hell. And God says to me on Earth for the first time, "Xas!" in a tone of discovery, as if I'm a misplaced pair of spectacles or a stray dog. And he puts it to me that he wants me in Heaven. But Lucifer has doubled back - it was him I followed - to find me, where I am, in a forest, smitten, because the Lord has noticed me, and I'm overcome, as hopeless as your dog Josie whom you got rid of because she loved me.' Xas glared at Sobran. Then he drew a breath - all had been said on only three. He went on: 'Lucifer says to God the He can't have me. And at this I sit up and tell Lucifer that I didn't even think he knew my name, then say to God no thank you - very insolent this - and that Hell is endurable so long as the books keep appearing.

Imagine your life is a big canvas. Picture it in your mind and think about the beginnning of your painting of life.You're fourteen yours old, and you are lucky if you have one seventh painted. Now imagine the rest of the canvas is totaly empty. Every day you live, and every month and every year, means another inch that is painted on that canvas. You're going to be painting this empty canvas with your life and when you get to the end of it, what is that painting going to look like?

I’m Christian, but if God is truly a God of love, then why would he have a private torture chamber where he put people that he was supposed to love and forgive to be punished forever? If you actually read the Bible, the idea of hell like in the movies and most books was invented by a writer. Dante’s Inferno was ripped off by the Church to give people something to be afraid of, to literally scare people into being Christian.

I’m going to hell. I know that with full certainty, but there’s a long list of people I’ll send there ahead of me.

I'm going to Hell in a basket Weaved in from my sins, Like wicker With little Wiccan ties As if I'm a witch Accused.

I'm half way to Heaven and half way to Hell with each breath I take in this mortal shell.

I never understood why when you died, you didn't just vanish, everything should just keep going on the way it was only you just wouldn't be there. I always thought I'd like my own tombstone to be blank. No epitaph, and no name. Well, actually, I'd like it to say 'figment'.

I'm simpley one hell of a butler.

In a world where people are too languid to make something of themselves out of effort, I sell them hope. What they do with it is up to them. Invariably they drink it and then hurl it down a gutter, but that’s their choice and their freedom. I won’t judge them.

I never heard enough damnation from your pulpit. Many mornings I had to strain to take hold of what you were saying, Reverend. I couldn't figure it out, and got dizzy listening, the way you were dodging here and there. A lot of talk about compassion for the less fortunate, I remember that. Never a healthy sign, to my way of thinking, too much fuss and feathers about the poor. They're with us always, the Lord Himself said. Wait till the next go-around, if the poor feel so sorry for themselves on this. The first shall be last. Take away damnation, in my opinion, a man might as well be an atheist. A God that can't damn a body to an eternal Hell can't lift a body up out of the grave either.

Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time. The mind is its own place, and in it self Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

I'm not interested in absolute moral judgments. Just think of what it means to be a good man or a bad one. What, after all, is the measure of difference? The good guy may be 65 per cent good and 35 per cent bad—that's a very good guy. The average decent fellow might be 54 per cent good, 46 per cent bad—and the average mean spirit is the reverse. So say I'm 60 per cent bad and 40 per cent good—for that, must I suffer eternal punishment? "Heaven and Hell make no sense if the majority of humans are a complex mixture of good and evil. There's no reason to receive a reward if you're 57/43—why sit around forever in an elevated version of Club Med? That's almost impossible to contemplate.

I'm supposed to feel like it’s such a great apartment, but I don’t. It’s the right price, there are no bugs and it’s got a great view, but it’s the lair of Satan...

I’m supposed to feel like it’s such a great apartment, but I don’t. It’s the right price, there are no bugs and it’s got a great view, but it’s the lair of Satan...--Nil Caveat

In all seriousness, Archer claims that if you, as a living, alive person, hear the song "You're the One That I Want" from the musical Grease three times in a single day - seemingly by accident, whether in an elevator, on a radio, a telephone hold button, or whatever - it indicates that you'll surely die before sunset.

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.

I never will suggest you to drink energy drinks, they taste like hell!

In hindsight he was glad it wasn't the good taco spot because it would have been ruined forever. Anyplace that charged seventy-five cents for condiments could burn in hell. On principle.

In hell old age is not tolerated. It is too real. Here we worship Love and Beauty. Our souls being entirely damned, we cultivate our hearts.

In later life I have been sometimes praised, sometimes mocked, for my way of pointing out the mythical elements that seem to me to underlie our apparently ordinary lives. Certainly that cast of mind had some of its origin in our pit, which had much the character of a Protestant Hell. I was probably the most entranced listener to a sermon the Reverend Andrew Bowyer preached about Gehenna, the hateful valley outside the walls of Jerusalem, where outcasts lived, and where their flickering fires, seen from the city walls, may have given rise to the idea of a hell of perpetual burning. He liked to make his hearers jump, now and then, and he said that our gravel pit was much the same sort of place as Gehenna. My elders thought this far-fetched, but I saw no reason then why hell should not have, so to speak, visible branch establishments throughout the earth, and I have visited quite a few of them since.

In life, I always thought that an Atheist values life much more than any follower of any religion. I believe in that now more than ever. Hell has strengthened that opinion.

In reality, the damned are in the same place as the saved—in reality! But they hate it; it is their Hell. The saved love it, and it is their Heaven. It is like two people sitting side by side at an opera or a rock concert: the very thing that is Heaven to one is Hell to the other. Dostoyevski says, 'We are all in paradise, but we won’t see it'…Hell is not literally the 'wrath of God.' The love of God is an objective fact; the 'wrath of God' is a human projection of our own wrath upon God, as the Lady Julian saw—a disastrous misinterpretation of God’s love as wrath. God really says to all His creatures, 'I know you and I love you' but they hear Him saying, 'I never knew you; depart from me.' It is like angry children misinterpreting their loving parents’ affectionate advances as threats. They project their own hate onto their parents’ love and experience love as an enemy—which it is: an enemy to their egotistic defenses against joy… Since God is love, since love is the essence of the divine life, the consequence of loss of this life is loss of love...Though the damned do not love God, God loves them, and this is their torture. The very fires of Hell are made of the love of God! Love received by one who only wants to hate and fight thwarts his deepest want and is therefore torture. If God could stop loving the damned, Hell would cease to be pure torture. If the sun could stop shining, lovers of the dark would no longer be tortured by it. But the sun could sooner cease to shine than God cease to be God...The lovelessness of the damned blinds them to the light of glory in which they stand, the glory of God’s fire. God is in the fire that to them is Hell. God is in Hell ('If I make my bed in Hell, Thou art there' [Ps 139:8]) but the damned do not know Him.

In one sense, (Duchamp's) “The Large Glass” is a glimpse into Hell; a peculiarly modernist Hell of repetition and loneliness.

In order to mount to heaven, you used the Inferno to give you momentum. "The further down you gain your momentum," you often used to tell me, "the higher you shall be able to reach. The militant Christian's greatest worth is not his virtue, but his struggle to transform into virtue the impudence, dishonor, unfaithfulness, and malice within him. One day Lucifer will be the most glorious archangel standing next to God; not Michael, Gabriel, or Raphael—but Lucifer, after he has finally transubstantiated his terrible darkness into light.

Intellectualism is a poor master over passion

In the aftermath, she (Misty) still felt as though she were floating and as Leone shifted back from her she leant over him, silver-grey eyes bright with emotion, and whispered, ‘I died and went to heaven the day I found you.’ A wolfish grin of appreciation slashed his wide, sensual mouth. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You don’t sound at all like yourself.’ ‘Enjoy it while it lasts,’ she advised, happiness flooding through her as he curved her close and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to her reddened mouth. ‘I didn’t realise I’d found heaven until I stumbled into hell,’ Leone traded feelingly.

In the architecture of their life some may display Potemkin happiness in view of hiding the dark features of their fair weather relationship, preferring to set up a window dressing of fake satisfaction rather than being rejected as emotional outcasts. ("Absence of beauty was like hell")

In the beginning, there was the earth, formless and empty. Darkness hung over the surface of the deep. And then there was light. It spilled over the waters, vast and powerful, and its creation severed the unity that had come before. This light was a separate entity from the darkness. Something novel and cruelly different. The spirits called it “day.” Its opposite was called “night.” Between them was evening and morning—the First Day. This division marked the end of peace in the universe. Everything has been pretty much fucked up since then.

In that instant, Gogolov feared death. He could feel himself falling through the dark void of space. He was flailing and terrified and utterly alone. He braced for impact, but it never came. He cried for mercy he would never see. He felt the searing heat and the demons ripping at his eyes and face with claws like razors. And then, in a terrifying flash of clarity, he realized it would never end.

In that moment, hell may have ascended, Or heaven may have descended only to save me and prove, What I carry is an exaggerated memory of an imagined beautiful love. This love is tainted with treachery; it will be my doom.

In the depths of hell roasting on a spit if it meant getting to be close to you.

In the lowest Hell you find ignorance. In the lowest Heaven you find shrewdness. In the highest Hell you find craftiness. In the highest Heaven you find brilliance.

In this world . . . It's Heaven when: The French are chefs The British are police The Germans are engineers The Swiss are bankers And the Italians are lovers It's Hell when: The English are chefs The Germans are police The French are engineers The Swiss are lovers And the Italians are bankers.

In the religion these words ‘save me’ were created to suppress the truth of the human life. These words ‘save me’, indicates that you are sinner and so you are uttering these words. But see how wonderful the human life is! Yes, I am Universal. Upanishad is saying ‘Amritasya Putrah’ (Sons of Amrita or Immortal self). What a wonderful version! And in that case they are crying ‘save me’! Upanishads created heaven by saying ‘Sons of Immortal self’ and on the contrary they have created hell by uttering the words ‘Save me’.

Isn't watching sacred potential kill itself as good a punishment as eternal fire?