Best 1914 quotes in «hell quotes» category

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. I was in hell and there was no way out of it.

...'unless you convert to Orthodoxy, you too will follow your Pope down that valley, through the scorching fire. We will watch you from this balcony,' he added, 'but of course it will then be too late to save you.' I smiled, but Fr. Theophanes was in full swing and clearly in no mood for joking. 'No one can truly know what that day will be like.' He shook his head gravely. 'But some of our Orthodox fathers have had visions. Fire-fire that will never end, terrible, terrible fire - will come from the throne of Christ, just like it does on the icons. The saints-those who are to be saved, in router words the Orthodox Church-will fly in the air to meet Christ. But sinners and all non-Orthodox will be separated from the Elect. The damned will be pushed and prodded by devils down through the fire, down from the Valley of Joseph, past here-in fact exactly the route those Israeli hikers took today-down, down to the Mouth of Hell.' 'Is that nearby?' 'Certainly,' said Theophanes, stroking his beard. 'The Mouth of Hell will open up near the Dead Sea.' 'That is in the Bible?' 'Of course,' said Theophanes. 'Everything I am telling you is true.

Until your our last breath, lots of surprises waiting for you each day, and at those points you can't do anything, just wait, watch and react according to the situation like helpless kid. After the last breath also, you don't know, even more surprises are there for you like heaven or hell.. Hahaha, it's the true meaning of life....

Utajiri wa mbinguni ni wa milele na mungu wake ni Yehova. Utajiri wa duniani ni wa muda na mungu wake ni Mammon. Mammon, ambaye hata Yesu alimtaja katika Injili ya Mathayo 6 na katika Injili ya Luka 16, ni mungu wa uchoyo na utajiri wa dunia hii. Mammon kazi yake ni kufanya watu waliokufa kifedha na walio hai kifedha kuwa maskini wa milele ahera. Yesu Kristo alikuwa maskini, ili tuwe matajiri kupitia umaskini wake, lakini kwa sababu alikuwa na imani ya Mungu katika moyo wake alikuwa tajiri. Hivyo unaweza kuwa na utajiri wa mbinguni hapa duniani, ukiikaribisha amani ya Mungu katika moyo wako.

We are chained to the earth by a chain of gold, but we dare not sever it; for fear of what lies beyond the drop.

We are going to link up, hold hands, and walk out of hell together.

We are master alchemists: We may not have discovered how to make gold out of lead, but we are able to make heaven out of hell, hell out of heaven, and purgatory out of nothing.

We are not built for mountains and dawns and artistic affinities; they are for moments of inspiration, that is all. We are built for the valley, for the ordinary stuff of life, and this is where we have to prove our mettle. A false Christianity takes us up on the mount and we want to stay there. But what about the devil-possessed world? Oh, let it go to hell! We are having a great time up here.

We can no longer believe that after death, if we have sinned, we shall enter hell. Hell has been acted out here on Earth in the time of Nazi Germany, when even the innocent went in their millions to a hell that beggars the imagination. A profound change in attitude has come about as a result.

We can reject the literal notion of Hell along the lines of Dante’s Inferno, an actual location where bad people are punished for their sins. We can dismiss that as naive. But, calling on ‘second naïveté' can we believe that there are some things a person might do during his lifetime, the memory of which will haunt him for the rest of his days and make it hard for him to feel good about the kind of person he is? Can we believe that there are some moments in our lives that we can look back on, opportunities we missed that never came our way again, and bear the consequences of having missed that opportunity for as long as we live? ‘What might have been’ is a pretty good definition of Hell.

We create our own hell or heaven by giving vent to anger or by mastering it. If you are angry, the world seems like hell. However, when you are peaceful, the same world becomes heaven.

We had not written or phoned or called or even sent a lousy card. We were young: we had our troubles. If there is a hell it should be for selfishness.

We do and say useless and pointless stuff and words, if we think little deeper why we go and masturbate?? (No,... No don't change the page... don't close it or whatever do.... look me right in the face and listen it's not a shit... it's how the matrix is build)... well... let's start from here... we masturbate and after all in the other day or after few days we will do it again..., we eat food and after all we eat again and again until we die... we say useless words and after all who in the hell to know why, we do that??? But after all from this useless words comes the one useful story if the useless words didn't exist... it won't also exist the advange called itself "story".

We have nothing to lose in this life: We came naked into the world and we will exit naked.

We create our own hell, it is the sum of all our decisions - we are not sentenced, we condemn ourselves.

We fear what we don’t know, or whatever seems like a mystery to us.

Well, Hell was worse, of course, by definition. But Crowley remembered what Heaven was like, and it had quite a few things in common with Hell. You couldn’t get a decent drink in either of them, for a start. And the boredom you got in Heaven was almost as bad as the excitement you got in Hell.

Welcome to Hell, where the living conditions went beyond crowded, the job sucked, and the pay sucked even worse. It was like living in, well, Hell.

Well, if there’s a hell like this place then there has to be a heaven somewhere.

We laughed the way that only people who carry each other back from Hell can laugh when they finally get a hunger for the future once again.

Well, what do they all amount to, these kings and captains and bishops and lawyers and such like? They just leave you in the ditch to bleed to death; and the next thing is, you meet them down there, for all the airs they give themselves.

We not only do not believe that man is punished for his 'sins,' but emphatically state that there is no such thing as sin. There are wrongs and injustices, but no sin. Sin, like purgatory and hell, was invented by priests, first to frighten, and then to rob the living. We do not fear these myths and curses, and that is why we devote our time and energies to help our fellow man. That is why we build educational institutions and seek, by a slow and painful process, to teach man the true nature of the universe and a proper understanding of his place as a member in society. At the same time we try to fortify his mind with courage to withstand the rebuffs, the trials and tribulations of life. That it is a difficult and arduous task no one can deny because we cannot correct all of 'God's mistakes' in one life time. As Ingersoll so succinctly states: 'Nature cannot pardon.' Remember this: You are not a depraved human being. You have no sins to atone for. There is no need for fear. There are no ghosts—holy or otherwise. Stop making yourself miserable for 'the love of God.' Drive this monster of tyrannic fear from your mind, and enjoy the inestimable freedom of an emancipated human being.

We must have taken a wrong turn turning somewhere." "Where, Purgatory?" said Dozy. "We're in Hell.

We put ourselves through hell and that is hell.

We were on duty. We had jobs to do. When all hell breaks loose, we are the ones who run into the fires of hell, not away from it.

We're all going to hell anyway, why not enjoy the ride?

Were the happiness of the next world as closely apprehended as the felicities of this, it were a martyrdom to live; and unto such as consider none hereafter, it must be more than death to die, which makes us amazed at those audacities that durst be nothing and return into their chaos again. Certainly such spirits as could contemn death, when they expected no better being after, would have scorned to live, had they known any.

We will be able to depart this life with the quiet peace-giving notion, that we were permitted to contribute to the happiness of many who will live after us. In our long lives we endeavored to unfold the collective consciousness. In our lives we have known hell and heaven; the final balance, however, is that we helped pave the way to dynamic harmony in this earthly house. That, I believe, is the meaning of life.

We want to be women who advance. The kingdom of God is advancing, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it. Don't you want to advance along with it? Don't you want to help it to advance? And don't you want to advance into the deeper realms of the heart of God? Advance into more healing, more deliverance, more intimacy, more life? Fear makes us retreat. Love causes it to advance.

What a man has made himself, he will be; his state is the result of his past life, and his heaven or hell is in himself. At death we enter upon a new course of life, and what that life shall be depends upon ourselves.

What could he have against love? Sure, it sucked sometimes, but what was the point of living if there wasn't love?

What a shame it would be, if upon death, one who lived his life following his religion, were to find out that there is no Heaven and no Hell and that all souls just go out and back to the places where they came from, finally free from the monsters that hung onto their backs while they were in this world! And what a shame it would be, if upon death, one who lived life with no thought of her own soul, were to find out that some souls go to some place wonderful and some souls go to some place horrible! But what a shame it would be, for anyone, to live a life here on this Earth full of fear, void of freedom and happiness, meaningless and empty, due to either the probability of Heaven and Hell or the absence thereof! So what is really true, is that you and I have bones in our bodies and have flesh under our skin and we ought to live this life right here in such a way that creates Heaven on Earth and puts Hell far away.

What broke loose is popularly and succinctly described as hell.

What do you think the Order is going to do?" he asks. "Help us open a door to Hell, if we're lucky," I reply. Lucky. Ha ha. The irony.

Whatever we say about hell must be said under the rubric of a universal and effective reconciliation of all things in Christ. If we choose to say where hell is, it must somehow be inside Jesus' reconciliation. If we choose to explain how hell can be, we must somehow say that Jesus accepts our choosing of it without willing us into it in any deterministic way. If we want to say what hell does, we must somehow leave it with no detrimental effect on the universal picnic. And if we are so bold as to attempt to say what hell is like, we must somehow make it even more of a nothing than our first death, which is its master image.

What do you want for her?" "Dragon bones." The leader's eyes narrowed even as his pupils turned to vertical slits. The contrasting actions was jarring to see. "That's impossible." Rory lifted a shoulder, casual indifference. "Nothing's impossible. I want them, you want this female. Find me dragon bones, you get her.

Whatever you are, if you lie and cheat others, it means you are making the hell for yourself here and there.

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.

What if you are just destined to get hurt, to be helplessly stuck in a point of time you no longer want to be? Maybe life is all about trying to get up while you fall a little bit deeper in the pits of hell, each time you try not to...

What?' He cried, darting at him a look of fury: 'Dare you still implore the Eternal's mercy? Would you feign penitence, and again act an Hypocrite's part? Villain, resign your hopes of pardon. Thus I secure my prey!' As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, He sprang with him from the rock. The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorching beams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads of insects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood which trickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them from him, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into his body, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him tortures the most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore his flesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. A burning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolled beside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound. Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemy and curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of death destined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days did the Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The winds in fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds, now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled the stream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot where Ambrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river the Corse of the despairing Monk.

What, in all very seriousness, the hell was going on?

What is hell to a writer? Hell is being too busy to find the time to write or being unable to find the inspiration. Hell is suddenly finding the words but being away from your notebook or typewriter. Hell is when the verses slip away through your fingers and they never return again.

What is happiness? What is a good life? Is it a life without suffering? Something like that doesn't exist... Life is filled with suffering and sorrow. So it's no wonder that to those who fear suffering, the world seems like a living hell! And still...those who bravely keep going and try to push through this hell... They'll find that it's only a small stretch of the road to happiness. The truly great are those who never lose hope, even when thrown into hell... And as long as we have faith in ourselves, even hell itself can be a paradise!

What makes the earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it ought to feel like Heaven.

What if I've died a long time ago and come here? he wondered. What if the defining characteristic of hell is that you're locked in an endless, blind battle to reform it?

What if you had once seen hell open, and all the damned there in their easeless torments, and had heard them crying out of their slothfulness in the day of their visitation, and wishing that they had but another life to live, and that God would but try them once again; one crying out of this neglect of duty, and another of his loitering and trifling, when he should have been labouring for his life; what manner of person would you have been after such a sight as this ? (284)

What is Hell like?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. Damn my curiosity. "You've never been there?" He eyed me suspiciously. Yeah, I went to Hell every summer for vacation.

What's optimism? said Cacambo. Alas, said Candide, it is a mania for saying things are well when one is in hell.

When Jesus says he will keep you safe, he means it. Hell will have to get through him to get to you.

What the hell? Die in a fire, youth. Die in a fire.