All Quotes By Tag: Demons

“Her smile created chaos in his heart every time and it always messed up his mind. But it was also the same thing, which every time silenced the storms and calmed down every demon inside him which always tried to tear him apart.”

“He fed himself to the demons he had inside him, every single day. Just to save her, from being consumed by them.”

“Sometimes, what we need the most is the strength to survive in this world. Which forces us to pay, to watch the demons destroy the paradises we built and dance on its ruins.”

“In the Deep South, God is a cotton king,Trussed up in plantation whites and powdered over smooth with a little bit of talcum from Momma’s compact.He’s the Georgia dust that gets on everything, in everything,Caking the soles of bare feetsifting through cracks in church pews, and catching in your lover’s eyelashes.In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boywho swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday.He is the one who reaches up your skirt,pulls out the prayers your were saving for somedayand lights them on fire with his tongue.He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart,call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings,then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned.In the Deep South, the Holy Spirit is an old womanwith hands brown and gnarled as the nuts she boilsand a voice soft and dark as the Appalachian sky.She is the swamp kingdom matriarch children are sent towhen sins need to be wished away like warts,the presence of whom straightens the spines of wayward soulsand coaxes a “Yes Ma’am” from the devil’s own.In the Deep South, Jesus is a mixed-race childwith drops of destiny mingled into his bloodand the names of the saints tattooed along his spine.He has his mother’s bearing, one that wears suffering nobly,and baleful eyes that speak of the sins of his forefathers.The word of God flutters from his mouth like butterflieswith bodies baptized in tears and wings dipped in steel.In the Deep South, angels drink too much.They sashay and guffaw and forget to return calls.They tell white lies and agonize over what to wear.In the Deep South, angels look very much like you and I,and they cling to each other with dustbowl desperationand replenish their failing reserves of grace with ritualin the hopes of remembering what they once were,what wonders they once were capable of performing”

“I am fashionably unimpressed with the material world. I am moved by the beauty of aspiration, and I hope that I can elevate myself to the standards I have imposed on others.”

“There is a sort of mental treasonThat smothers dreams outside of reason”

“Of course, Mary Magdalene would have very little tolerance for the Christian platitudes and vapid optimism that seem to swirl around these kinds of tragic events. Those platitudes are tempting, but they’re nothing but luxuries for people who’ve never had demons (or at least have never admitted to them). But equally, she would reject nihilism, or the idea that there is no real meaning in life or death – ideas present in so much of postmodernity. Those ideas, too, are luxuries, but they are for those who have never been freed from demons.”

“Lady Alainn, yer actin’ altogether peculiar… even for you.”

“He’s reading a book called Great Warlocks of the 18th Century, and to get this ball rolling before Dean Devlin shows up and rains on our private parade, I snort and ask, “Good book?”I forget I’m pretending to be sitting behind my two-thousand-ninety-eight-page Highlights of Modern Chemistry book, so he snorts back. “Better than yours.”

“If I’ve got a Dad, and his name is Wormwood Rot, and he’s in some heavy metal rock band called Grave Dirt . . . then I’m definitely meeting him!She stares at me awkwardly, and I’m about to ask again—maybe even insist—when she says, “Honey, why do you think he’s on the news? Wormwood, I mean . . . your father? Becca, he’s . . . dead.”

“Are we talking hell hounds and flames here?” Des asked, pacing at the end of our beds.I repeated the question and gave a heaving sigh of relief when Jameson said I had the wrong idea.”He’s going to ‘lead us into temptation.'””That doesn’t sound so bad,” Des said with a cheeky grin.”

“I didn’t want to go to hell, but even the idea of reclaining my halo scared me because it would mean leaving Aly.”

“I knew I was a little different from most demons but nothing says freak of nature like a one-eyed gypsy saying I had a rainbow glow. It just didn’t sound complimentary.”

“Rule Number Two, Monsignor. Do not show pity.”

“Your god, sir, is the World. In my eyes, you, too, if not an infidel, are an idolater. I conceive that you ignorantly worship: in all things you appear to me too superstitious. Sir, your god, your great Bel, your fish-tailed Dagon, rises before me as a demon. You, and such as you, have raised him to a throne, put on him a crown, given him a sceptre. Behold how hideously he governs! See him busied at the work he likes best — making marriages. He binds the young to the old, the strong to the imbecile. He stretches out the arm of Mezentius and fetters the dead to the living. In his realm there is hatred — secret hatred: there is disgust — unspoken disgust: there is treachery — family treachery: there is vice — deep, deadly, domestic vice. In his dominions, children grow unloving between parents who have never loved: infants are nursed on deception from their very birth: they are reared in an atmosphere corrupt with lies … All that surrounds him hastens to decay: all declines and degenerates under his sceptre. Your god is a masked Death.”