Angels Unaware Quotes

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

A man's truest self realizations might require him, above all, to learn to close his eyes: to let himself be taken unawares, to follow his dark angel, to risk his illegal instincts.

People are unaware that spirits even exist, let alone that angels are present with them.

It is dangerous to explain too clearly to man how like he is to the animals without pointing out his greatness. It is also dangerous to make too much of his greatness without his vileness. It is still more dangerous to leave him in ignorance of both, but it is most valuable to represent both to him. Man must not be allowed to believe that he is equal either to animals or to angels, nor to be unaware of either, but he must know both.

O you, who in some pretty boat, Eager to listen, have been following Behind my ship, that singing sails along Turn back to look again upon your own shores; Tempt not the deep, lest unawares, In losing me, you yourselves might be lost. The sea I sail has never yet been passed; Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo, And Muses nine point out to me the Bears. You other few who have neck uplifted Betimes to the bread of angels upon Which one lives and does not grow sated, Well may you launch your vessel Upon the deep sea.

Children are the only people who accept a mood of wonderment, who are ready to welcome a perfect miracle at any hour of the day or night. Only a child can entertain an angel unawares, or to meet Sir Launcelot in shining armor on a moonlit road.

Do not forget to entertain strangers,” Buck said in the same language, “for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

When humans work, they frequently become unaware of their own body, their own senses, are surprised to find that their wrists ache or their backs are sore or their friend has left the building. It's as close to an out-of-body experience as can be achieved short of fifty volts, a circle of warding, a pigeon's claw cut from an albino female of purest white feathers, or a lot of mushrooms.

To thine beautiful unawares beloved deity, in one’s benevolent craft, each of us must reveal our own truth.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Hebrews 13:2

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby  wsome have entertained angels unawares.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

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.

The Grave and The Rose The Grave said to the Rose, "What of the dews of dawn, Love's flower, what end is theirs?" "And what of spirits flown, The souls whereon doth close The tomb's mouth unawares?" The Rose said to the Grave. The Rose said, "In the shade From the dawn's tears is made A perfume faint and strange, Amber and honey sweet." "And all the spirits fleet Do suffer a sky-change, More strangely than the dew, To God's own angels new," The Grave said to the Rose

I had no idea who she was. But for a heartbeat, I forgot about the game, the score…the pressure. I was entranced. Nothing else mattered. I stared at her angelic face in blind amazement until I lost my mind and I blew her a kiss, watching in awe as her gorgeous face screwed up in disgust, gold flecked eyes unaware that she’d just changed my fucking world.

Beware to entertain strangers, thereby you may entertain an angel unawares...New Testament.

Man must not be allowed to believe that he is equal either to animals or to angels, nor to be unaware of either, but he must know both.

Riley’s smile saturated her entire face with beauty. This was the sister Maisy had left all those years ago. The sister with the full laugh and the face of an angel who was unaware of her beauty. Gone was the sister who pulled her hair back into a baseball cap.

When they finally made it back to England, they didn’t realize they had violated a whole slew of British customs regulations. Kevin and Rick came to work as usual, blissfully unaware of any wrong doing, until customs officials dragged them away and swarmed over their boat searching every nook and cranny for contraband. On another occasion, during a surprise dorm inspection, their rooms were discovered devoid of all beds and other furniture but stacked floor-to ceiling with sheep and horse pelts they had bought in Iceland. They planned to sell the hides for a profit, but the inspection short circuited their scheme.

This was such a big leap in logic, between what I said and what he said, that I thought we were like two people standing apart on separate mountain peaks, recklessly leaning forward to throw stones at one another, unaware of the dangerous chasm that separated us. But now I realize Ted knew what he was saying all along. He wanted to show me the rift. Because later that evening he called from Los Angeles and said he wanted a divorce. Ever since Ted's been gone, I've been thinking, even if I had expected it, even if I had known what I was going to do with my life, it still would have knocked the wind out of me. When something that violent hits you, you can't help but lose your balance and fall. And after you pick yourself up, you realize you can't trust anybody to save you--not your husband, not your mother, not God. So what can you do to stop yourself from tilting and falling all over again?

No adventure ever came to one for the asking.  He who starts on a deliberate quest of adventure goes forth but to gather dead-sea fruit, unless, indeed, he be beloved of the gods and great amongst heroes, like that most excellent cavalier Don Quixote de la Mancha.  By us ordinary mortals of a mediocre animus that is only too anxious to pass by wicked giants for so many honest windmills, adventures are entertained like visiting angels.  They come upon our complacency unawares.  As unbidden guests are apt to do, they often come at inconvenient times.  And we are glad to let them go unrecognised, without any acknowledgment of so high a favour.  After many years, on looking back from the middle turn of life’s way at the events of the past, which, like a friendly crowd, seem to gaze sadly after us hastening towards the Cimmerian shore, we may see here and there, in the gray throng, some figure glowing with a faint radiance, as though it had caught all the light of our already crepuscular sky.  And by this glow we may recognise the faces of our true adventures, of the once unbidden guests entertained unawares in our young days.

I bought all these ingredients and headed to Marlboro Man’s house, choosing to ignore the fact that Marinated Flank Steak actually needs to marinate. Plus, I didn’t know how to operate a grill--Los Angeles County apartment buildings had ordinances against them--so I decided to cook it under the broiler. Having not been a meat eater for years and years, I’d forgotten about the vital importance of not overcooking steak; I just assumed steak was like chicken and simply needed all the pink cooked out of it. I broiled the beautiful, flavorful flank steak to a fine leather. With all my focus on destroying the main course, I wound up overcooking the angel hair noodles by a good five minutes, so when I stirred in all the cheeses I’d so carefully grated by hand, my Tagliarini Quattro Formaggi resembled a soupy pan of watery cheese grits. How bad could it possibly be? I asked myself as I poured it into garlic-rubbed bowls just like they did at Intermezzo. I figured Marlboro Man wouldn’t notice. I watched as he dutifully ate my dinner, unaware that, as I later learned, throughout the meal he seriously considered calling one of the cowboys and asking them to start a prairie fire so he’d have an excuse to leave.

Except then a local high school journalism class decided to investigate the story. Not having attended Columbia Journalism School, the young scribes were unaware of the prohibition on committing journalism that reflects poorly on Third World immigrants. Thanks to the teenagers’ reporting, it was discovered that Reddy had become a multimillionaire by using H-1B visas to bring in slave labor from his native India. Dozens of Indian slaves were working in his buildings and at his restaurant. Apparently, some of those “brainy” high-tech workers America so desperately needs include busboys and janitors. And concubines. The pubescent girls Reddy brought in on H-1B visas were not his nieces: They were his concubines, purchased from their parents in India when they were twelve years old. The sixty-four-year-old Reddy flew the girls to America so he could have sex with them—often several of them at once. (We can only hope this is not why Mark Zuckerberg is so keen on H-1B visas.) The third roommate—the crying girl—had escaped the carbon monoxide poisoning only because she had been at Reddy’s house having sex with him, which, judging by the looks of him, might be worse than death. As soon as a translator other than Reddy was found, she admitted that “the primary purpose for her to enter the U.S. was to continue to have sex with Reddy.” The day her roommates arrived from India, she was forced to watch as the old, balding immigrant had sex with both underage girls at once.3 She also said her dead roommate had been pregnant with Reddy’s child. That could not be confirmed by the court because Reddy had already cremated the girl, in the Hindu tradition—even though her parents were Christian. In all, Reddy had brought seven underage girls to the United States for sex—smuggled in by his brother and sister-in-law, who lied to immigration authorities by posing as the girls’ parents.4 Reddy’s “high-tech” workers were just doing the slavery Americans won’t do. No really—we’ve tried getting American slaves! We’ve advertised for slaves at all the local high schools and didn’t get a single taker. We even posted flyers at the grade schools, asking for prepubescent girls to have sex with Reddy. Nothing. Not even on Craigslist. Reddy’s slaves and concubines were considered “untouchables” in India, treated as “subhuman”—“so low that they are not even considered part of Hinduism’s caste system,” as the Los Angeles Times explained. To put it in layman’s terms, in India they’re considered lower than a Kardashian. According to the Indian American magazine India Currents: “Modern slavery is on display every day in India: children forced to beg, young girls recruited into brothels, and men in debt bondage toiling away in agricultural fields.” More than half of the estimated 20.9 million slaves worldwide live in Asia.5 Thanks to American immigration policies, slavery is making a comeback in the United States! A San Francisco couple “active in the Indian community” bought a slave from a New Delhi recruiter to clean house for them, took away her passport when she arrived, and refused to let her call her family or leave their home.6 In New York, Indian immigrants Varsha and Mahender Sabhnani were convicted in 2006 of bringing in two Indonesian illegal aliens as slaves to be domestics in their Long Island, New York, home.7 In addition to helping reintroduce slavery to America, Reddy sends millions of dollars out of the country in order to build monuments to himself in India. “The more money Reddy made in the States,” the Los Angeles Times chirped, “the more good he seemed to do in his hometown.” That’s great for India, but what is America getting out of this model immigrant? Slavery: Check. Sickening caste system: Check. Purchasing twelve-year-old girls for sex: Check. Draining millions of dollars from the American economy: Check. Smuggling half-dead sex slaves out of his slums in rolled-up carpets right under the nose of the Berkeley police: Priceless.

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’” “I’m sorry?” “That’s Hebrews.

Words you speak have power – when you share positivity about yourself in the universe, it gives you back what you say. And, always be generous and kind to those you meet for you might entertain an angel of help unawares.

I don’t think that I believe any more in the party; — or rather in the men who lead it. I used to have a faith that now seems to me to be marvellous. Even twelve months ago, when I was beginning to think of standing for Tankerville, I believed that on our side the men were patriotic angels, and that Daubeny and his friends were all fiends or idiots, — mostly idiots, but with a strong dash of fiendism to control them. It has all come now to one common level of poor human interests. I doubt whether patriotism can stand the wear and tear and temptation of the front benches in the House of Commons. Men are flying at each other’s throats, thrusting and parrying, making false accusations and defences equally false, lying and slandering, — sometimes picking and stealing, — till they themselves become unaware of the magnificence of their own position, and forget that they are expected to be great.

When, therefore, the Book of Enoch blames the angelic sons of God, rather than their earthly wives, for the depravity of relations said to exist between them as spirits and mediums, we may well ask if this be not a matter on which the writer of the Book of Enoch has carelessly accepted current legends. May it not be that he, too, believed all depraved psychical manifestations to be due to "evil sprits", and that he was totally unaware of the occult law which brings these things to pass with a medium who, ignorantly but persistently, fails in clear thinking or correct loving?

Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:1–2, KJV).

Children are very sensitive to their surroundings, the atmosphere, though adults always think their children are unaware of things that they aren’t told.

Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unaware.

Hebrews 13:2 ESV Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

The personal case histories were the most encouraging. A prominent Los Angeles public relations executive has been living with MM for fourteen years, rides horses, and has an altogether active life on drug maintenance. An Arizona man survived MM and with his wife set up a foundation and website for other families bewildered by the diagnosis. I learned, for the first time, that Frank McGee, host of the Today show from 1971 to 1974, suffered from MM and kept it from everyone despite his ever more gaunt appearance. When he died after putting in another full week on the air his producers and friends were stunned. Sam Walton, founder of Walmart, was another MM casualty, which led many to believe that he had established the high-profile multiple myeloma treatment center in Little Rock, Arkansas. This is a full-immersion process in which MM is the singular target under the commanding title of Myeloma Institute for Research and Therapy. There is a Walton auditorium on the institute’s University of Arkansas medical school campus, but the institute itself was founded by Bart Barlogie, a renowned MM specialist from the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. The institute has an impressive record, running well ahead of the national average for survival for those who are dealing with MM. One number is especially notable. The institute has followed 1,070 patients for more than ten years, and 783 have never had a relapse of the disease. Sam Walton was treated by Dr. Barlogie at MD Anderson before the Little Rock institute was founded, but the connection ended there. Walton, who’d had an earlier struggle with leukemia, didn’t survive his encounter with multiple myeloma, dying in April 1992, a time when life expectancy for a man his age with this cancer was short. I was unaware of all of this when I was diagnosed. I took comfort in the repeated reassurances of specialists that great progress in treating MM with a new class of drugs, your own body’s reengineered immunology system, was rapidly improving chances of a longer survival than the published five to ten years. As I began to respond to treatment the favored and welcome line was, “You’re gonna die but from something else.

Did angels appear that way? They did in the Bible, Paul said, be sure to entertain stranger, because many had entertained angels unaware. If he never showed up again, she’d be inclined to think she’d hallucinated the entire thing, Jared and all.

Real Fact about Angles: Angels are material but ethereal (Latif), more ethereal than the gaseous phase of matter. They are Nurani( Luminous, Spiritual). They are alive. They have reason ( ). Evils peculiar to human beings do not exist of angles. They can take any shape. As gases turn into liquid and solid and take any shape when becoming solid, likewise angles can form beautiful shapes, Angles are not souls that have parted from the bodies of great men. Christians presume that the angles are such spirits. Unlike energy and power, they are not immaterial. Some ancient philosophers supposed so. all of them are called Malaika "Malak" (angel) means 'envoy, messenger' or 'power.' Angles were created before all other living creatures. Therefore, we were commanded to believe in them before believing in the heavenly books, which come before belief in prophets; and in the Holly Quran the names of these tenets of belief are given in thes succession. Belief in angles has to be as follows: angels are creatures of Allahu Talal (God). They are not His Partners, nor are they His daughters as disbelievers and polytheists suppose. They Obey His Commands (God's Commands) and never commit sins or disobey the commands. They are neither male or Female. They are do not get married. They do not have children. They have life; that is, they are alive. When Allah (the God) announced the He was going to create human beings, angels asked, "Ya Rabbi! (Oh God) Are You going to create creatures who will corrupt the world and shed blood?" Such questions, called Dhella, from angles do not changes the fact the they are innocent. Of all creatures, angels are the most plentiful. No one but Allah (the God) knows their number. There is no empty space in the skies where angels do not worship. Every place in the skies is occupied by angels in Ruku (blowing during Namaz) " a kind of worship or pray" or in the Sujda (Prostrating) " a kind of worship or pray to God". In the skies, on the earth, in grass, on stars, in every living and lifeless creature, in every rain-drop, plant leaf, atom molecule, in every reaction, motion, in everything, angels have duties. They carry out Allahu Tala's (the God) commands everywhere. They are intermediaries between Allahu tala (The God) and creatures. Some of them are the commanders of other angels. Some of them brought messages to Prophets among human beings. Some angels bring good thoughts, called "Ilham" (inspiration), to the human heart. Some others are unaware of all human beings and creatures and have lost consciousness upon feeling Allah Tala's (The God) beauty. Each of theses angels stays in a certain place and connot leave its place. Some angels have two wings and some have four or more. Angels belonging in Paradise stay in Paradise. Their superior is Ridwan. Angels of Hell, Zabanis carry out in Hell what they are commanded. The fire of Hell does not harm them, as the sea is not harmful to fish. There are nineteen leading Zabanis. Their chief Is Malik. For each human being, there are four angels who record all their good and bad acts. Two of them come at night and the other two come during the day. They are called Kiram Katibin or angels or Hafaza. There is another scholarly report stating that the on one’s right side is superior to the one on the left and records the good deeds. The one on the left writes down the evil deeds. There are angels who will torment disbelievers and disobedient Muslims in their graves, and angels who will ask questions in graves. The questioning angles are called Munkar and Nakir. Angels who will question Muslims are also Called mubashshir and Bashir. At the first sound of the “Sur”, all angels except the Hamalat al-Arsh and the four archangel’s will be annihilated. Then the Hamalat al-Arsh and then the four archangels will be annihilated. At the second sound all angels will be annihilated after all the living creatures, as they were created before all.

We turn around and there stands Aidan, looking like he just won a million dollars. He can't keep his eyes off Ivy. "Hey, Aidan," I greet. "I'd like you to meet Ivy." "I am quite pleased to meet your acquaintance." Ivy gently shakes his hand. Finally getting a grip, Aidan returns the shake, his goofy grin reappearing on his face. "Yeah. I'm Aidan. Good to meet you, too." "Rylan has told me so much about you." Aidan rubs his chin, a comically sly glint in his eyes. "Oh really? Did he say how dashing, brilliant, and incredibly handsome I am?" "No." I shakes, completely unaware it's all a joke. "Rylan said you were loud and that if it was not for him, you'd still be stuck in the third grade." I snort into my water as Aidan scowls. "But he also says you're a good brother, a trustworthy friend, and very funny." She breaks off giggling. "And I see what he means. You should see the look on your face!" Oh, ya mean this?" Aidan puts his hands up and wiggles his fingers as his expression contorts into something even crazier. Ivy continues giggling; even I let out a chuckle feeling my nerves disappear. No more worrying with the whole "meet my friends" situation.

Angels of God – Ascenders and Descenders Hebrews 13:2 Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Soap tries to arrest the Punisher, but fails to stop him. Soap then becomes despondent; Castle then tells Soap when things aren’t getting better, to “just go”. Soap leaves the NYPD, moves to Los Angeles and becomes a porn star. Up to that point, he had simply been unaware that he has large genitals.

She looked at him. Amazed by his certainty that this would all turn out fine. Humbled that he had any faith in Her after years of abuse at her hand. Perplexed by the love her mistreatment didn't destroy. ~ Angels Unaware

She despised weakness, especially her own. She'd seared most of her emotional needs with the white-hit iron of self-reliance and independence years before. ~Angels Unaware

You cannot blame our decisions on anyone, Moriah. They were all made by you, alone. Clarion, to Moriah Angels Unaware

Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares

Oh, I’m Camilla’s partner. But I can’t stay.” “I see! Lovely to meet you,” said the Angel, unaware of how her eyebrows betrayed her, like everyone else in the world to Nona seemed unaware of how their eyebrows betrayed them, by immediately saying plain as day: Camilla?? Really??? Camilla??? Which Nona thought was unfair: Crown was very nearly pretty enough for Camilla. “Nona, can you take Noodle for a moment? I’ve got to get the tuning forks and he’s going to make the most unrighteous howl, he can’t stand the things. When she had passed the leash to Nona and gone through the door with one last look at Crown, Nona crouched to give Noodle her hand to lick, and said accusingly: “If Camilla hears you said that, she’ll be furious.” “That’s probably why I said it,” admitted Crown, with genuine contrition. “I have a ripple of evil running through my soul—I know I do. But it wasn’t that bad a lie, was it, Nona? Don’t you think it’ll raise Cam’s status? Don’t you think I’ve done her a favour?” Nona thought about it. “Camilla doesn’t need raising. You could have raised my status by saying you were mine,” she added. “They would have believed it—we’re both very attractive.

Heaven's an observatory from which we peer down on the high drama of your everyday lives. You are entertaining the angels, unawares.

Take God-Given Authority (1) You must become a believer, for this is only valid for believers (Jn. 14:12; Matt. 16:17). (2) Break the bondage of Satan over the aware and unaware mind. Command that all bonds of serpents, chains, cords, metal, etc. be cut off and removed in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Call for the Heavenly Father to send angels with swords to do this (Heb 1:14; Lev 26:13, Isa. 28:22; Job 38:31). (3) Daily recite renunciation and warfare prayers and consistently break evil soul ties and Curses and break away from all mind-altering medicines. (4) Keep a right attitude toward deliverance; stay ready at all times to receive more. Any doubt, care, or worry could be a flaw in your protective armor. (Lk. 8:14).

Gray was different in every way. Even with a terrible personality and a complete lack of grace, he would still have looked like an angel. He had perfect posture, his head always held high, his wide shoulders always straight. The Ironside cameras always tried to catch him dishevelled, unawares, but they always failed. He was too perfect and perfectly composed. It was impossible to read the emotion in his pale eyes or catch any tension in the sure way he moved his limbs.

The very circumstance, which your suffering sense deems wrathful and afflictive, Love can make an angel entertained unawares

The connectome that lights up when you’re engaged in a task is called the task-positive network, or TPN. Aptly named, the TPN gets you down to work. You’re deliberately doing something and you are intent on it, unaware of much beyond the bounds of what you’re doing. In this state, you don’t consciously know whether you’re happy or not, which is just as good as being happy, if not better, because you’re not wasting any energy in self-assessment. You may become frustrated with what you’re doing and have moments of anger or dismay, but if you stay in the task, in the TPN, those moments will pass, and the TPN, buoyant connectome that it is, will carry you along. When you’re thinking with the TPN, you’re in the Angel mindset. But you can also get trapped in the TPN, doing a task from which you cannot disengage. This is the hyperfocused state that people with ADHD can fall into. Far from being helpful, it can keep you stuck in one task, unable to shut down the screen, turn off the TV, or move from one paragraph to the next. This is the often unrecognized downside of focus.

He stared at her now with an intensity that seemed to unsettle her. She accidentally frosted her chin. She grabbed a handful of napkins, dabbed at the smeared buttercream. "Look what you made me do," she accused him. His tongue pressed against his teeth. He felt a craving to lick the frosting from her lips. To nibble on her chin. To fully taste her. An urge he tamped down. "How's missing your mouth my fault?" he asked, amused. "You were staring at me." "Did I make you nervous?" "You looked... hungry." "I'm quite full, actually." Hannah was inexperienced. She was unaware that his hunger hadn't been for the cake; it had been for her.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Missler points out that holy angels seem to manifest human bodies at will, but demons seek to control the bodies of others. This is well supported by biblical texts, as Missler points out: “Angels can materialize, take people by the hand (Genesis 19:16), eat meals with mankind (Genesis 18:7, 8), and indulge in combat (2 Kings 19:35). Some have even entertained angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2).”[

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:2 King James Version (KJV)

As the nation diversifies, the homogeneous communities that people seem to prefer become increasingly fine grained. When immigrants become landlords, many rent only to people from their own country. Apartment buildings can become entirely Korean, Salvadoran, or Guatemalan, for example. Immigrant landlords are often unaware of non-discrimination laws, and do not hesitate to tell others they are not welcome. A lawyer for Neighborhood Legal Services of Los Angeles noted that some managers rent only to people from a particular state of Mexico, adding, 'Our fair housing laws haven't even anticipated that.

For the next two hours, he would toy with her, giving her a chance to repent. Whether she did or not made no difference. He fingered the knife in his pocket. The blade was sharp and tonight she would feel it. Her time would run out an hour before sunrise. As with the others, he would weigh down her body with a cement block. Barely alive, she would struggle against death as they all had. The water would fill her lungs. The last thing she would see on this earth would be his eyes, the eyes of her murderer. How long would it take before her family, her friends reported her missing? A day, possibly two? Surely no longer. Then the search would begin. He would watch the news reports, recording them all on his DVR. In a week or two, some tourist or jogger would spot a floater in the Potomac. All evidence washed away, she would be just another woman executed by the D.C. Killer. He would add her disc to his collection. He whiled away the time thinking about his first kill. She had lounged in her bath, thinking she was alone. When he entered the bathroom, she smiled. The expression on his face made her smile falter. He came at her, grasping her by the shoulders. He pushed her down, holding her struggling body under. Her eyes wide with terror, she tried to plead with her murderer, to ask her husband “Why?” He sank her body in the Potomac, the first victim of the D.C. Killer. The door opened. Shannon Miller stood in the breach, surveying the parking lot. Nervous, she started to go back inside, then changed her mind. She peered toward him, her eyes straining to penetrate the mist and gloom. He was a shadow, invisible to her. Seeing no threat, she stepped out, locked the door and hurried across the deserted lot to her car, a red Toyota with more rust than red. The tap-tap of her high heels pulsated on the cracked asphalt. The beat of her shoes matched the throb of his heart. He could hear her heavy, fearful breathing. He smiled. The moon scurried behind the clouds as if hiding its face in horror. He was an avenger, a messenger of God. His mission was to rid the nation's capital of immoral women. Fearing him, prostitutes now walked the streets in pairs. Even in their terror, they still pursued their wicked trade. At times he saw them huddled in groups of three or four. They reminded him of children in a thunderstorm. Like a spirit, he crept in her direction. The only light was cast by the Miller Lite sign and a distant street lamp. The light in the parking lot had burned out weeks ago, throwing it into darkness. He stalked her as a lion does its prey. He moved slowly, silently, low to the ground, keeping the car between them. His dark running suit blended with the night. He was the Dark Angel, the Angel of Death. In another life, he had passed over Egypt, killing the firstborn of those condemned by God. Her eyes darted in every direction, still she didn't see him. He was invisible. Her hands shook as she tried to get the key in the door. The 11 o'clock news reported that another one had been found. If he stuck with his pattern, the D.C. Killer would strike again tonight. By morning a woman would be dead. She prayed it wouldn’t be her. She fumbled, dropping the key ring. She stooped to pick it up, her head turning in every direction, her ears alert to every sound. Now, without seeing him, she sensed him. She lowered her eyes, trying again, successfully this time. She turned the key. There was a click. She sighed, unaware that she had been holding her breath. The dome light flashed as she opened the door. He was on her in an instant. Their bodies slammed against the door. The light blinked out. He held her in an iron grip with one hand over her mouth and the blade poking into her

She touches the face of the infant-God. How long was your journey! This baby had overlooked the universe. These rags keeping him warm were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And worshiping angels had been replaced with kind but bewildered shepherds. Meanwhile, the city hums. The merchants are unaware that God has visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he had just sent God into the cold.

And who knows what our neighbor is, after all? A saint, an angel unawares, a genius, an artist, a devil, a dreamer of great dreams, or an abscess in the form of a man? Who knows? We never really see each other, and that is at once the mystery and the terror of living.

The spider carried the larvae as they developed, and they in turn altered its behavior, causing it to change the webs that it spun, so that when the larvae finally erupted from its body they would have a cushioned web upon which to rest while they fed on the remains of the arachnid in which they had gestated. Epstein had told me that there were entities who did the same to men—dark passengers on the human soul, carried unawares for years, even decades, until it came time to reveal their true natures, and then they consumed the consciousness of their hosts.

HEB13.2 Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

She was looking for a certain toxin Leng had been fascinated with, found in the death cap mushroom, Amanita phalloides. The toxins of that infamous species of mushroom were thermostable: they could be cooked yet remain deadly. In addition, the mushroom had a pleasant taste resembling beef broth, allowing food to be heavily laced with it yet take on no bitter or unusual flavor. But what primarily attracted Leng was the fact that the mushroom’s deadly effects took days to appear—much too late to purge the stomach with an emetic. By the time you felt sick enough to realize something was seriously wrong, you were already a dead person. You could ingest a fatal dose and remain unaware of it for as long as two weeks—until your liver began inexorably to fail. For this reason, the death cap had been used as a poison for thousands of years, playing a role in the demise of, among others, the Roman emperor Claudius, Pope Clement VII, and the Austrian emperor Charles VI. Once the poison finally manifested, it made itself felt in a most unpleasant manner indeed. An antidote was not developed until some time into the twenty-first century. Prior to that, nothing could save the victim except immediate liver transplantation.

The Luciferian becomes slowly aware that they are alone and isolated in the world as the initiate is becoming ‘other’. Cain is uniquely ‘other’ in that he is at the very least an ‘outsider’ to the tribe, his witch blood and way of thinking becomes different from the others. The concept of the tribal god, Yahweh has no connection to Cain and his father and brother, Adam. The symbolic antinomian act of Cain killing Abel is the selfdetermined act of culling the former ‘clay’ of self, the conscious unaware ‘former’ symbol of who you were. Rather than Cain being some stained, tainted cast-off of Yahweh’s religious believers, he is restored as a symbol and metaphor of self-determined power and strength of Will. The traits of Cain are Luciferian: independent, determined, antinomian in instincts and both a master of his craft in both witchcraft and metals in the shape of ‘Tubal Cain”. In several different traditions of witchcraft, Cain is the second metallurgical artist or sorcerer; the Black Smith of the Forge who came after only Azazel who descended with the 200 Watchers upon Mount Hermon. Those who have heard the distant voices upon the winds, calling for you to seek the Devil’s Path and the pleasure of the Infernal Sabbat will enter the circle alone. In isolation from others the neophyte begins to forge the Luciferian Spirit, ignited and selfimmolated with the Black Flame. This is the gift of divine consciousness, given to us by our father who has many names: Azazel, Samael and Lucifer are but a few. The Adversary challenges us to strike down the common self, the mundane clay of Adam as the self before initiation. Luciferians soon wear and assimilate the Deific Mask of Cain, the metaphor of Infernal Union and the mediator between earth and spirit. The Black Flame ignited is that which consumes our former shell and now to walk the Left-Hand Path as both Daemon and Witch-born Nephilim. The Mask of Cain demands the killing of Abel, our Daemon calling for the offering of blood and an iron will to slay the vulgar clay of our former self. Recognize here is both metaphor and cipher, listen to your instincts towards the forbidden knowledge of your Daemon! Know that we bring to Disorder all that is Sacred, rejecting traditions many clings to in a desperate attempt of building selfidentity. The Shadow’d Ones of Azazel are aware of self, the possibilities and potential within the Circle of Self. The Gnosis of Cain is the Shedding of the Serpent’s Skin, to forge the Daemon from the Fires of Azazel and Qayin.