Best 1914 quotes in «hell quotes» category

I essentially killed those men. Am I slated for hell?" He stepped to me. Put his fingers underneath my chin. Raised it until our gazes locked. "You're a god, Dutch. And the reaper. You don't get slated. You are the slate.

If 90% of the people, are going straight to the hell, then, where do we live now? 11.05.12

If 90% of the people, are going straight to the hell. So, where do we live now? 11.05.12

If 90% of the people, go straight to the hell. So, where do we live now. 11.05.12

If a woman's vagina was hell fire, then alot of sex maniacs would prefer to spend their eternity in hell.

I feared the defining point of this Hell was its unrelenting uniformity, its lack of variation from type. If there was a heaven at the end of this, it must be filled with great variety, perhaps a multiplicity of intelligent species spread across universes. Yes, heaven would be as full of difference as Hell was of sameness.

I fear no hell, just as I expect no heaven. Nabokov summed up a nonbeliever’s view of the cosmos, and our place in it, thus: “The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.” The 19th-century Scottish historian Thomas Carlyle put it slightly differently: “One life. A little gleam of Time between two Eternities.” Though I have many memories to cherish, I value the present, my time on earth, those around me now. I miss those who have departed, and recognize, painful as it is, that I will never be reunited with them. There is the here and now – no more. But certainly no less. Being an adult means, as Orwell put it, having the “power of facing unpleasant facts.” True adulthood begins with doing just that, with renouncing comforting fables. There is something liberating in recognizing ourselves as mammals with some fourscore years (if we’re lucky) to make the most of on this earth. There is also something intrinsically courageous about being an atheist. Atheists confront death without mythology or sugarcoating. That takes courage.

If god created hell, who will blame his followers for trying to establish it on earth

If heaven really exists: then heaven is the job, hell is unemployment, while life is merely an interview.

If heaven was hot and hell was chilly, tell me, why would you go to heaven?

If honor and wisdom and happiness are not for me, let them be for others. Let heaven exist, though my place be in hell.

If I don't make it to heaven, at least I know what hell feels like with this heat!

If I might share my opinion, this world is hell, and our task is to create our own heaven.

I firmly disbelieve in death. A spirit never dies. Where it wanders when it leaves the flesh, is a cognitive proposition.

I find the concept of Hell to be more honest than that of everyday life. In Hell, no one can lie to you, because you already know what to expect for the rest of eternity. Nothing more and nothing less.

If I were to believe in God enough to call him a murderer, then I might also believe enough that he, as a spirit, exists beyond death; and therefore only he could do it righteously. For the physical being kills a man and hatefully sends him away, whereas God, the spiritual being, kills a man and lovingly draws him nigh.

If Jesus was willing to be beaten and tortured to gain the salvation of mankind, the least we can do is tell them about it.

If love was a sin, God Himself would be in the hottest part of Hell.

If only a horrible storm can demolish the castle of the devil, then let the storm be victorious! It is not uncommon that heaven comes after hell!

I found that I couldn't muster any belief in a literal heaven or hell, anyway. I thought the best we could all do was to look after one another and clean up the various hells we've made right here on earth.

{From Luther Burbank's funeral. He was loved until he revealed he was an atheist, then he began to receive death threats. He tried to amiably answer them all, leading to his death} It is impossible to estimate the wealth he has created. It has been generously given to the world. Unlike inventors, in other fields, no patent rights were given him, nor did he seek a monopoly in what he created. Had that been the case, Luther Burbank would have been perhaps the world's richest man. But the world is richer because of him. In this he found joy that no amount of money could give. And so we meet him here today, not in death, but in the only immortal life we positively know--his good deeds, his kindly, simple, life of constructive work and loving service to the whole wide world. These things cannot die. They are cumulative, and the work he has done shall be as nothing to its continuation in the only immortality this brave, unselfish man ever sought, or asked to know. As great as were his contributions to the material wealth of this planet, the ages yet to come, that shall better understand him, will give first place in judging the importance of his work to what he has done for the betterment of human plants and the strength they shall gain, through his courage, to conquer the tares, the thistles and the weeds. Then no more shall we have a mythical God that smells of brimstone and fire; that confuses hate with love; a God that binds up the minds of little children, as other heathen bind up their feet--little children equally helpless to defend their precious right to think and choose and not be chained from the dawn of childhood to the dogmas of the dead. Luther Burbank will rank with the great leaders who have driven heathenish gods back into darkness, forever from this earth. In the orthodox threat of eternal punishment for sin--which he knew was often synonymous with yielding up all liberty and freedom--and in its promise of an immortality, often held out for the sacrifice of all that was dear to life, the right to think, the right to one's mind, the right to choose, he saw nothing but cowardice. He shrank from such ways of thought as a flower from the icy blasts of death. As shown by his work in life, contributing billions of wealth to humanity, with no more return than the maintenance of his own breadline, he was too humble, too unselfish, to be cajoled with dogmatic promises of rewards as a sort of heavenly bribe for righteous conduct here. He knew that the man who fearlessly stands for the right, regardless of the threat of punishment or the promise of reward, was the real man. Rather was he willing to accept eternal sleep, in returning to the elements from whence he came, for in his lexicon change was life. Here he was content to mingle as a part of the whole, as the raindrop from the sea performs its sacred service in watering the land to which it is assigned, that two blades may grow instead of one, and then, its mission ended, goes back to the ocean from whence it came. With such service, with such a life as gardener to the lilies of the field, in his return to the bosoms of infinity, he has not lost himself. There he has found himself, is a part of the cosmic sea of eternal force, eternal energy. And thus he lived and always will live. Thomas Edison, who believes very much as Burbank, once discussed with me immortality. He pointed to the electric light, his invention, saying: 'There lives Tom Edison.' So Luther Burbank lives. He lives forever in the myriad fields of strengthened grain, in the new forms of fruits and flowers, plants, vines, and trees, and above all, the newly watered gardens of the human mind, from whence shall spring human freedom that shall drive out false and brutal gods. The gods are toppling from their thrones. They go before the laughter and the joy of the new childhood of the race, unshackled and unafraid.

If there is heaven then there must be hell too, don't think that The God is merciful, he didn't create hell for himself.

If this is hell, then hell could not be much, neither as special nor as ugly as I was told.

If we had more sleepless nights in prayer, there would be fewer souls to have a sleepless eternal night in hell.

If there's a place for me in Hell I hope it's next to someone like you

If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, compromises on principles are the street lights

If this world is hell, one can only have compassion for those who are obliged to live in it and breathe its poisonous air.

If we listen and observe carefully the dying can teach us important things that we need to learn in preparing for the end of our own life's journey.

If we want hell, if we want heaven, they are ours. That's how love works. It can't be forced, manipulated, or coerced. It always leaves room for the other to decide. God says yes, we can have what we want, because love wins.

If you are going through hell, keep walking until you reach heaven.

If you are living in heaven, invite people to your heaven; if you are living in hell, warn people to stay out of your hell! People need your heaven, not your hell!

If you do bad stuff and don't repent, you go to hell," Orc said, like he was begging for a refutation. "Yeah, well, you know what? If Howard's in hell, I guess we can all have a big get-together soon enough. a

If you dance with the devil, you will have no feet left by the end of the song.

If you go to heaven, better earn it. If you go to hell, better earn it too! Either way, you'd better burn for what you live for and for where you are going. And you better get there knowing you burned for it. What do you feel? What do you want? What do you burn for? This is what makes you human, this is what gives you a soul. This is what earns you heaven or hell.

If you ever need to confirm that a girl is worth coming back from Hell for, show her your monster arm and see what she says.

If you have lived through hell, you'll appreciate Heaven.

If you run out on Nellie, what will you say when you meet God?" George swore, laughed, shook his head. "I'll say 'Just send me on to hell. That's where all my friends are, anyway.

If your success is not amazing to your critics, it disturbs, infuriates, and frustrates them, and if they're not careful; may go hang themselves and go to hell.

If you sell your soul to the Devil, you will spend the rest of eternity trying to buy it back.

If you say you are truly in love with me, you must see the light in my darkness, embrace my iniquity, and follow me to hell.

I had a lot of Hell that God needed to squeeze out of me, and believe me, sometimes when the Hell leaves you it screams at God on the way out. And when the pain from your past leaves you, sometimes you have to feel it again on the way out. There's nothing we can say or do that can separate us from God's love.

I gaze up at the ceiling. Through it. Past Kim and Chip's room on the second floor into the sky, space, heaven, hell. Who says hell is down? It could be up. It could be next door to heaven. Hell could be a subset of heaven, like a ghetto in the middle of a glass city.

I got a kick out of those who whined about their soul. Worried they were losing it. Let’s get one thing straight, you didn’t lose your soul. You always knew where it was or where it went, you cannot lose something you gave away or sold or had broken past repair. Your soul was like your arm, you didn’t lose your arm. Your arm was either there or it wasn’t, and you usually knew why it wasn’t there

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

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

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.