Capturing The Devil Quotes

Beyond life, beyond death, my love for thee is eternal.

It is a sad truth that we do not live in a world where differences are accepted.

The world needed to be better. And if it wasn’t possible for it to be better, we, its inhabitants, needed to do better.

We needn't complete each other, we complemented each other.

When I was adventuring between the pages of a book, I wasn’t sad over things I was missing outside.

Love is immortal. Death can neither touch nor steal it.

At some point, we're all someone's hero and another's villain. It's all a matter of perspective.

You do say you like a man with a rather large—” “Stop.” I held my hand up. “I beg of you. My uncle is right there.” “Brain.” He finished anyway, grinning at my reddening face. “You truly astound me with the direction your filthy mind travels in, Wadsworth.

The Devil's out of fashion.

Don't become a random photograph in the eyes of friends, and even your enemies, for each glance at your face will cause a declination of value and reputation. Create value, through scarcity.

I long to live in a world where equal treatment is not something in need of commending

My love for you will be a constant in a sea of unknown variables. We may fight or be cross with each other, but our love will never fade or wilt. Trust in that. Trust in us. Forget the future. Forget worry. The only thing that terrifies me is the possibility of living with regret. I don't ever want to wake and wonder what life could have been like with you in it. I don't ever want to regret holding myself back from loving you as fully and openly as possible.

The Mind—Satan’s Battlefield Let me bring you into the enemy’s kingdom and the strategy of the devil in a deeper way. The first thing the enemy attacks is your mind. The enemy knows that the battle is in the mind, and he knows if he can capture the territory of your mind, your thoughts, and the way you operate, he’s got you in a stranglehold. The next move he makes will be to attack your soul. This includes your mind, will, and emotions. Once he’s got a person’s soul, he will paralyze that person and bring them down to nothing.

You are my heart, my soul, my equal. You see the light in me when I’m lost within darkness. When I’m cold and distant, you’re as warm as autumn sunshine, bathing me in your glow. If I am the night, then you are the stars lighting up my endless dark.” His voice broke, wrenching my heart. “My best friend, the absolute love of my life, now until forevermore, I call you my wife.

I find myself striving to learn new talents, especially when the result is you looking—” “Radiant?” I guessed. “I was going to suggest ‘like you wish to destroy my virtue at once,’ but I suppose yours isn’t a terrible deduction, either.

You don’t stare the devil in the eyes and come out without some of his sin. You can’t beat the devil without becoming like him.

I despise being the one having an emotional dilemma. It’s much more enjoyable being the one consoling you. You haven’t even offered to let me sit on your lap. You’re terrible at this.

I could marry the Devil himself if he had some money.

Promise me to wake each day and find joy wherever you can, no matter how small it may be. There will always be hard times and trying times and times for sorrow, but we won't let those days destroy the here and now. Because right now? I'm here... And you're here... And the present is more glorious than the future and all its unknowns.

Outside forces will always be out of your control. One thing you can control is how you choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.

Thomas Cresswell couldn't die. If he did...a darkness so complete as to truly be terrifying welled up inside me. I did not know who I'd become, should I lose him. But Satan would tremble at my approach.

People that don't know what they are worth will always see their capture's wings, but never their tail.

Beware of trusting beautiful creatures. They hide the most wicked surprises.

Do not relinquish your grasp on hope. It's one of the best weapons anyone possesses.

He and I were two stars in the same constellation, destined to shine brightly together each night of forever.

Reality' would not only be boring without spirit; it would have no meaning whatsoever. No horror film can begin to capture the horror of such a vision: a world without spirit.

Tell me having a cat's affection and a good book doesn't sound like an ideal evening.

You fight. You fight for what you want. You do not wallow or surrender. The lesson in not in lying down and allowing yourself to be stabbed, child. It's in pushing yourself up and battling back." Her eyes flashed. "You fell down. So? Will you stay there, weeping over skinned knees? Or will you brush off your skirts, adjust your hair, and carry on? Do not relinquish your grasp on hope. It's one go the best weapons anyone possesses.

A heart was a curious thing. So contradictory. The way it ached in both good and bad ways. The way it leapt with joy and ceased with sorrow. It could beat madly and wildly during both pleasure and pain.

If the world thinks we're heading straight to Hell, we might as well enjoy the journey there. I'd rather dance with the devil than sing with angels.

We humans could not help loving our monsters.

You are my heart, my soul, my equal. You see the light in me when I’m lost within darkness. When I’m cold and distant, you’re as warm as autumn sunshine, bathing me in your glow.

Men are keen on blaming women for the rise in sin. It's been something plaguing humanity since the Bible first accused Eve of tempting Adam. As if he had no mind to taste that forbidden fruit before she offered it to him. Everyone seems to forget God told Adam the fruit was forbidden. He created Eve later.” “Honestly?” I snorted. “I didn’t realize you were so well versed in religion.” Thomas placed my hand in the crook of his arm, steering us toward my uncle, who’d just exited the station. “I enjoy causing discord when forced to attend parties. You ought to hear the arguments that break out from uttering something so supposedly blasphemous. The one question no one can answer is always, if Adam had been warned, why didn’t he pass the message along to his wife? Seems he was more to blame than she was. Yet Eve is always the villain, the wicked temptress who cursed us all.

Thank you for the shoes, Thomas.” I looked at the stack of boxes, teetering precariously close to the edge of the settee now. He caught my stare and nudged them back to safety. “All of them. It was very sweet. And highly unnecessary.” “Your happiness is always necessary to me.” He tilted my chin up and kissed the tip of my nose. “We’ll find new ways of navigating the world together, Wadsworth. If you can no longer wear heels, we’ll design flats you adore. If you ever find those no longer work, I’ll have a wheeled chair made and bejeweled to your liking. Anything at all in the universe you need, we will make it so. And if you’d prefer to do it on your own, I will always step aside. I also promise to keep my opinion mostly to myself.” “Mostly?” He considered that. “Unless it’s vastly inappropriate. Then I’ll share it with gusto.

Beyond life, beyond death. My love for thee is eternal." "That's beautiful. Was that in the letter?" "No. It's how I feel about you." I swore my heart stuttered a moment

You'd discover your morals aren't defined in terms such as black or white, good or bad. Most shy away from that level of introspection. It makes us realize we're villains. At least in part. We also all have the capacity to he heroes.

While my cousin had the voice of a nightingale, Thomas’s singing was atrocious. A cat in heat held a note in a more pleasant manner than he did. At least it proved he wasn’t limitlessly skilled, which pleased me to no end.

Men prided themselves on aging. They might lose their hair and expand their bellies and still be deemed a wondrous catch, marrying twenty years their junior. Yet heaven forbid a young lady grow into old age and be proud of the lines on her face; the very lines that told a story of a life well lived. The nerve of us to live happily and without apology.

Shall we see about solving another gruesome murder, my love?

Promise me to wake each day and find joy wherever you can, no matter how small it may be. There will always be hard times and trying times and times for sorrow, but we won’t let those days destroy the here and now.

How silly of me to believe in happy endings when I lived and breathed in darkness.

We needn't complete each other; we complement each other. He and I were whole on our own, which made us stronger when combined than two symbolic halves coming together to create one.

She’s a person who deserves to have her story told. What does it matter where she was born?

Sir Isaac Mewton?" "His command over gravity rivals his namesake's.

We're all someone's hero and another's villain. It's all a matter of perspective. And that changes as frequently as the cycles of the moon.

Determination — not fear —settled in my chest like a raging lion. I had been stalked and hunted and had escaped harm thus far.

No matter how far I traveled or how hard I pushed it from may mind, Jack the Ripper stalked me, invading every aspect of my life.

I wasn't frightened of corpses--those I found strangely comforting.

Nothing in life comes with a guarantee, Wadsworth." Thomas took a deep breath. "Outside forces will always be out of your control. One thing you can control is how you choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us all one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.

I wondered at the darkness swirling within me -- the secret part that couldn't muster up an ounce of disgust. Perhaps I needed to take up a new hobby. I feared I was becoming addicted to blood.

Mephistopheles waved her off as she left. “One more woman running off with another man. I’m losing my touch.” “Have you considered you might be a Thorne in their sides?” Thomas asked. “You certainly can be a pric—” “Thomas,” I whispered harshly, pinching the inside of his elbow. “How clever,” Mephistopheles said blandly. “You’ve made my name into a pun. What other comedic brilliance will you think of next? I wish I could say I missed this”—he motioned between himself and Thomas—“but that sort of lying doesn’t pay my bills.” “Nor do the gemstones on your suits,” Thomas muttered. “Are you still jealous about my jackets?” Mephistopheles grinned. “For the love of the queen,” I said, interrupting before they really got into it.

Part of growing older means letting go. You can't move forward if you never take those first few steps onto new ground. Now's the time to be brave, Daughter. Walking into the future means trusting in yourself even when you can't see around the bend. As long as you're certain this is what you want, all will be well.

With the weapons that God has made available to you, he expects you to capture and hold captive every thought and idea that comes into your mind, and to examine these against the backdrop of the Word of God. Those thoughts that are in line with God’s will and purpose for your life are to be released and allowed to move freely within your mind. However, those thoughts and ideas that are contrary to the Word of God are to be held perpetually captive and cast out of your mind in the name of Jesus!

We were already damned to Hell; it was silly to not at least enjoy our descent.

It's always been you for me, even when I didn't know who I was anymore. It will always be you, Thomas. No matter who tries to come between us. You are my heart. No one can take it.

A mind is a powerful weapon, but it doesn't have to be used wickedly," I said. "That's a choice.

The devil was a monster, but I would become his nightmare.

Vices versus morals; the ultimate struggle of this city.

One thing you can control is how you choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us all one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.

I can snap open corsets faster than bones." He held his knife up, his attention fixed on my chest. "Interested in a demonstration, fancy lady? Say the word and I'll show you what else I can do with such a fine figure." Liza stiffened beside me. People often called women of supposedly questionable morals "fancy ladies." If he thought I'd blush and run off, he was sorely mistaken. "Unfortunately, sir, I find I'm not terribly impressed." I casually slipped a scalpel from my wristlet clutch, enjoying the familiar feel of it. "You see, I also eviscerate bodies. But I don't bother with animals. I butcher humans. Would you care for a demonstration?

The masculine voice was low but clear, capturing the senses, running along the back of her neck like a caress, making her shiver in delight. Artemis very much feared she was gaping. The Duke of Wakefield had a voice to make angels—or devils—weep. It wasn’t the type of male voice currently admired—for the high, unnatural voice of the musico was the rage of London at the moment—but his was the sort of voice that would always seduce the ear. Sure and strong, with a vibrating masculinity on the low notes. She could sit and listen to a voice like this for hours.

Pain is a curse people can not bear but god who made the heavens and earth made it so so exept it. God made all living things he made us in his image Athiests were captured by the devil and were told lies so this is why we pray for them and hope they come to under stand we were not made by monkeys or a big bang.

Perhaps it’ll give me an idea for the perfect main course. What do you think of roasted goat?” “After witnessing its beheading or before?” she asked, looking like she was moments away from vomiting. “You do know that’s what cookbooks are for, correct? Inspiration without the labor. Or carnage. I swear you miss being surrounded by death.

Right. I got this, Bethie. Don’t worry,” she tells me. “I’m going to tear his balls off. We can put them on a chain and hang them in the baby’s room as a mobile,” she growls.

We are all wicked. More than mortal flesh and blood, our very souls harbor evil. It knows no beginning or ending.

I am my own monster.

I was no devil, but I never claimed to be an angel, either.

Loki looks decadent, lounging there, arms thrown along the back of the sofa and one leg up over the arm. An angel waiting to be worshipped. Or a devil waiting for his sacrifice.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. —ROMEO AND JULIET, ACT 2, SCENE 2 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Perhaps he'd brought us here to get stabbed for giggles

Now if you'll just drink too much wine and dance inappropriately, I will die a very happy man.

What the ever loving fuck?” exclaimed Briar. “You mean she’s not even going to move her fat ass over and let him float on that damn piece of wood? Jesus, two of him could fit on that shit.

...a summer romance that showed her stability and love could walk hand in hand. That love wasn't really what she'd been taught by her own family. It wasn't supposed to be a Tasmanian devil of insecurity and obsession. "Life gets heavy,"she told us, "like hot summer nights. At first you toss and turn, but slowly you learn that if you keep very, very still your body can capture a random breeze that latches onto you and cools you for a moment. Infinite and blissful, your body soars to greet it and holds onto it, but it leaves. And that's love. That's what love does".

My sweet, delectable Beth… I will fuck you gentle the first time. Exciting you until you scream my name and come over my fingers, and then I will feed your hungry body my cock one slow inch at a time.” “My

You fight. You fight for what you want. You do not wallow or surrender. The lesson is not in lying down and allowing yourself to be stabbed, child. It's in pushing yourself up and battling back." "You fell down. So? Will you stay there, weeping over skinned knees? Or will you brush off your skirts, adjust your hair, and carry on? Do not relinquish your grasp on hope. It's one of the best weapons anyone possesses.

Making Waves I would do anything for you. Would you be yourself? In the Hans Christian Anderson classic, The Little Mermaid, Ariel gives up her beautiful voice in exchange for legs. This is a seemingly innocent fable that captures our deal with the modern devil. For aren't we taught that mobility is freedom, whether it be moving from state to state, or from marriage to marriage, or from adventure to adventure? Aren't we convinced that upward mobility, moving from job to job, is the definition of success? Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with change or variety or newness or with improving our condition. The catch is when we are asked to give up our voice in order to move freely, when we are asked to silence what makes us unique in order to be successful. When not making waves means giving up our chance to dive into the deep, then we are bartering our access to God for a better driveway. As a story about relationship, the lesson of Ariel is crucial. On the surface, her desire for legs seems touching and sweetly motivated by love and the want to belong. Yet here too is another false bargain that plagues everyone who ever tries it. For no matter how badly we want to love or be loved, we cannot alter our basic nature and survive inside, where it counts.

Outside forces will always be out of your control. One thing you can control is how you choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us all one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.

Nothing in life is guaranteed, Wadsworth. Outside forces will always be out of your control. One thing you can control is how to choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us all one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.

Los poemas y los sonetos están destinados a rimar, pero no puedo escribir nada más que el anhelo más profundo de mi alma. Mi mundo había estado oscuro. Estaba tan acostumbrado que me había acostumbrado a atravesar los tramos solitarios de tierra desolada. Cuando entraste en mi vida, brillabas más que el sol y las estrellas combinadas. Calentaste las partes congeladas de mí que temía que fueran incapaces de descongelarse. Estaba convencido de que tenía un corazón tallado en hielo hasta que sonreías ... y luego comenzó a latir salvajemente. No puedo imaginar mi mundo sin ti ahora, porque eres mi universo entero. Eres y siempre serás mi verdadero y único amor. Espero, aunque no tengo derecho, que seas mía.

The wish to capture evanescent reflections, is not only impossible, as has been shown by thorough German Investigation, but the mere desire alone, the will to do so, is blasphemy. God created man in His own image, and no man-made machine may fix the image of God. Is it possible that God should have abandoned His eternal principles, and allowed a Frenchman in Paris to give to the world an invention of the Devil

Long before the fair’s end, people began mourning its inevitable passage. Mary Hartwell Catherwood wrote, “What shall we do when this Wonderland is closed?—when it disappears—when the enchantment comes to an end?” One lady manager, Sallie Cotton of North Carolina, a mother of six children staying in Chicago for the summer, captured in her diary a common worry: that after seeing the fair, “everything will seem small and insignificant.

As long as they are carnivorous and/or humanoid, the monster's form matters little. Whether it is Tyrannosaurus rex, saber toothed tiger, grizzly bear, werewolf, bogeyman, vampire, Wendigo, Rangda, Grendel, Moby-Dick, Joseph Stalin, the Devil, or any other manifestation of the Beast, all are objects of dark fascination, in large part because of their capacity to consciously, willfully destroy us. What unites these creatures--ancient or modern, real or imagined, beautiful or repulsive, animal, human, or god--is their superhuman strength, malevolent cunning, and, above all, their capricious, often vengeful appetite--for us. This, in fact, is our expectation of them; it's a kind of contract we have. In this capacity, the seemingly inexhaustible power of predators to fascinate us--to "capture attention"--fulfills a need far beyond morbid titillation. It has a practical application. Over time, these creatures or, more specifically, the dangers they represent, have found their way into our consciousness and taken up permanent residence there. In return, we have shown extraordinary loyalty to them--to the point that we re-create them over and over in every medium, through every era and culture, tuning and adapting them to suit changing times and needs. It seems they are a key ingredient in the glue that binds us to ourselves and to each other.

Te amaré y honraré cada segundo, cada minuto, cada hora del día. Prometo buscar tu consejo en todos los asuntos, tanto grandes como pequeños, y apreciarte con cada respiración en mis pulmones. Prometo no cometer el mismo error dos veces, hacer que sea mi deber diario verte sonreír y sostener tu mano en cada desafío, cada victoria y cada nueva aventura que esta vida nos presente. Desde este día hasta el último, prometo amarte y abrazarte, como mi igual en todos los sentidos.

By labeling the different gods and spirits as the Devil, it created a catchall that coalesced their unique essences in a workable archetype that survived in the popular folklore. Author Gemma Gary captures this idea beautifully when she writes, “Ironically, it may perhaps be the Church, in its keenness to eradicate adherence to pagan divinity by grafting and projecting it onto the diabolical, that has, unwittingly, most thoroughly preserved the potency, liberation and illumination of the ‘Old One’ and handed him back to the Witches as the ‘Devil.

So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart. Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels. And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will.

His tongue slid down the inner length of her finger, then traced the lines on her palm. “Such lovely hands,” he murmured, nibbling on the fleshy part of her thumb as his fingers entwined with hers. “Strong, and yet so graceful and delicate.” “You’re talking nonsense,” Kate said self-consciously. “My hands—” But he silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” he admonished. “Haven’t you learned that you should never ever contradict your husband when he is admiring your form?” Kate shivered with delight. “For example,” he continued, the very devil in his voice, “if I want to spend an hour examining the inside of your wrist”— with lightning-quick movements, his teeth grazed the delicate thin skin on the inside of her wrist—“ it is certainly my prerogative, don’t you think?” Kate had no response, and he chuckled, the sound low and warm in her ears. “And don’t think I won’t,” he warned, using the pad of his finger to trace the blue veins that pulsed under her skin. “I may decide to spend two hours examining your wrist.” Kate watched with fascination as his fingers, touching her so softly that she tingled from the contact, made their way to the inside of her elbow, then stopped to twirl circles on her skin. “I can’t imagine,” he said softly, “that I could spend two hours examining your wrist and not find it lovely.” His hand made the jump to her torso, and he used his palm to lightly graze the tip of her puckered breast. “I should be most aggrieved were you to disagree.” He leaned down and captured her lips in a brief, yet searing kiss. Lifting his head just an inch, he murmured, “It is a wife’s place to agree with her husband in all things, hmmm?” His words were so absurd that Kate finally managed to find her voice. “If,” she said with an amused smile, “his opinions are agreeable, my lord.” One of his brows arched imperiously. “Are you arguing with me, my lady? And on my wedding night, no less.” “It’s my wedding night, too,” she pointed out. He made a clucking noise and shook his head. “I may have to punish you,” he said. “But how? By touching?” His hand skimmed over one breast, then the next. “Or not touching?” He lifted his hands from her skin, but he leaned down, and through pursed lips, blew a soft stream of air over her nipple. “Touching,” Kate gasped, arching off the bed. “Definitely touching.” “You think?” He smiled, slowly like a cat. “I never thought I’d say this, but not touching has its appeal.

Hard times’ is a phrase the English love to use, when speaking of Africa. And it is easy to forget that Africa’s ‘hard times’ were made harder by them. Millions and millions of Africans were captured and sold into slavery – you and me, Celie! And whole cities were destroyed by slave catching wars. Today the people of Africa – having murdered or sold into slavery their strongest folks – are riddled by disease and sunk in spiritual and physical confusion. They believe in the devil and worship the dead. Nor can they read or write. Why did they sell us? How could they have done it? And why do we still love them? These were the thoughts I had as we tramped through the chilly streets of London

In whatever way the Devil gains access to your table, his goals are always the same. He wants to gain access to your mind so he can destroy you. He wants to get inside your head so harmful thoughts can be planted within you. Those thoughts will grow unchecked and spill out into actions. He wants you to be overtaken by wickedness. He wants to steal everything that is valuable from you. He wants to kill your relationship with God. He wants to cause division between you and the people who care for you. The Devil is not gentle - not in the long run. He was 'a murderer from the beginning' (John 8:44), and he sets snares that capture people so they do his will (2 Timothy 2:26). The Devil is vicious and cruel, and he's always prowling around 'like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour' (1 Peter 5:8). That someone is you.

The central ceremony of Ritual Witchcraft was the so-called "Sabbath" - a word of unknown origin having no relation to its Hebrew homonym. Sabbaths were celebrated four times a year - on Candlemass Day, February 2nd, on Rood Mass Day, May 1st, on Lammas Day, August 1st, and on the eve of All Hallows, October 31st. These were great festivals, often attended by hundreds of devotees, who came from considerable distances. Between Sabbaths there were weekly "Esbats" from small congregations in the village where the ancient religion was still practiced. At all high Sabbaths the devil himself was invariably present, in the person of some man who had inherited, or otherwise acquired, the honor of being the incarnation of the two-faced god of the Dianic cult. The worshipers paid homage to the god by kissing his reverse face - a mask worn, beneath an animal's tail, on the devil's backside. There was then, for some at least of the female devotees, a ritual copulation with the god, who was equipped for this purpose with an artificial phallus of horn or metal. This ceremony was followed by a picnic (for the Sabbaths were celebrated out of doors, near sacred trees or stones), by dancing and finally by a promiscuous sexual orgy that had, no doubt, originally been a magical operation for increasing the fertility of the animals on which primitive hunters and herdsmen depend for their livelihood. The prevailing atmosphere at the Sabbaths was one of good fellowship and mindless, animal joy. When captured and brought to trial, many of the who had taken part in the Sabbath resolutely refused, even under torture, even at the stake, to abjure the religion which had brought them so much happiness.

III. But we must close with a third remark. Christ really underwent yet a third trial. He was not only tried before the ecclesiastical and civil tribunals, but, he was really tried before the great democratical tribunal, that is, the assembly of the people in the street. You will say, "How?" Well, the trial was somewhat singular, but yet it was really a trial. Barabbas—a thief, a felon, a murderer, a traitor, had been captured; he was probably one of a band of murderers who were accustomed to come up to Jerusalem at the time of the feast, carrying daggers under their cloaks to stab persons in the crowd, and rob them, and then he would be gone again; besides that, he had tried to stir up sedition, setting himself up possibly as a leader of banditti. Christ was put into competition with this villain; the two were presented before the popular eye, and to the shame of manhood, to the disgrace of Adam's race, let it be remembered that the perfect, loving, tender, sympathizing, disinterested Savior was met with the word, "Crucify him!" and Barabbas, the thief, was preferred. "Well," says one, "that was atrocious." The same thing is put before you this morning—the very same thing; and every unregenerate man will make the same choice that the Jews did, and only men renewed by grace will act upon the contrary principle. I say, friend, this day I put before you Christ Jesus, or your sins. The reason why many come not to Christ is because they cannot give up their lusts, their pleasures, their profits. Sin is Barabbas; sin is a thief; it will rob your soul of its life; it will rob God of his glory. Sin is a murderer; it stabbed our father Adam; it slew our purity. Sin is a traitor; it rebels against the king of heaven and earth. If you prefer sin to Christ, Christ has stood at your tribunal, and you have given in your verdict that sin is better than Christ. Where is that man? He comes here every Sunday; and yet he is a drunkard? Where is he? You prefer that reeling demon Bacchus to Christ. Where is that man? He comes here. Yes; and where are his midnight haunts? The harlot and the prostitute can tell! You have preferred your own foul, filthy lust to Christ. I know some here that have their consciences open pricked, and yet there is no change in them. You prefer Sunday trading to Christ; you prefer cheating to Christ; you prefer the theater to Christ; you prefer the harlot to Christ; you prefer the devil himself to Christ, for he it is that is the father and author of these things. "No," says one, "I don't, I don't." Then I do again put this question, and I put it very pointedly to you—"If you do not prefer your sins to Christ, how is it that you are not a Christian?" I believe this is the main stumbling-stone, that "Men love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil." We come not to Christ because of the viciousness of our nature, and depravity of our heart; and this is the depravity of your heart, that you prefer darkness to light, put bitter for sweet, and choose evil as your good. Well, I think I hear one saying, "Oh! I would be on Jesus Christ's side, but I did not look at it in that light; I thought the question was. "Would he be on my side? I am such a poor guilty sinner that I would fain stand anywhere, if Jesu's blood would wash me." Sinner! sinner! if thou talkest like that, then I will meet thee right joyously. Never was a man one with Christ till Christ was one with him. If you feel that you can now stand with Christ, and say, "Yes, despised and rejected, he is nevertheless my God, my Savior, my king. Will he accept me? Why, soul, he has accepted you; he has renewed you, or else you would not talk so. You speak like a saved man. You may not have the comfort of salvation, but surely there is a work of grace in your heart, God's divine election has fallen upon you, and Christ's precious redemption has been made for you, or else you would not talk so. You cannot be willing to come to Christ, and y

Everything leads me to believe it,” he replied. “They got their hands on this communist who wasn’t one, while still being one. He had a sub par intellect and was an exalted fanatic—just the man they needed, the perfect one to be accused. . . . The guy ran away, because he probably became suspicious. They wanted to kill him on the spot before he could be grabbed by the judicial system. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen exactly the way they had probably planned it would. . . . But a trial, you realize, is just terrible. People would have talked. They would have dug up so much! They would have unearthed everything. Then the security forces went looking for [a clean-up man] they totally controlled, and who couldn’t refuse their offer, and that guy sacrificed himself to kill the fake assassin—supposedly in defense of Kennedy’s memory! “Baloney! Security forces all over the world are the same when they do this kind of dirty work. As soon as they succeed in wiping out the false assassin, they declare that the justice system no longer need be concerned, that no further public action was needed now that the guilty perpetrator was dead. Better to assassinate an innocent man than to let a civil war break out. Better an injustice than disorder. “America is in danger of upheavals. But you’ll see. All of them together will observe the law of silence. They will close ranks. They’ll do everything to stifle any scandal. They will throw Noah’s cloak over these shameful deeds. In order to not lose face in front of the whole world. In order to not risk unleashing riots in the United States. In order to preserve the union and to avoid a new civil war. In order to not ask themselves questions. They don’t want to know. They don’t want to find out. They won’t allow themselves to find out.” These astonishing observations about Dallas were captured in Peyrefitte’s memoir, C’était de Gaulle (It Was de Gaulle), which was published in France in 2002, three years after the author’s death. Snippets of the conversation appeared in the U.S. press, but the book was not translated and published in America, and de Gaulle’s remarks about the Kennedy assassination were never fully reported outside of France. A

By the time Trump arrived at his next event, in Lisbon, Maine, he had hit upon an even better sound bite to capture Clinton’s travails. “This,” he told the audience, “is the biggest political scandal since Watergate.

Nada en la vida viene con una garantía. Las fuerzas externas siempre estarán fuera de tu control. Una cosa que puedes controlar es cómo eliges vivir. Si te despiertas temeroso de todo lo malo que pueda pasar, te pierdes lo bueno. La muerte vendrá por nosotros todos algún día. Preocuparse por el mañana solo logra arruinar hoy

Descubriría que su moral no está definida en términos como blanco o negro, bueno o malo. La mayoría se aleja de ese nivel de introspección. Nos hace darnos cuenta de que somos villanos. Al menos en parte. También todos tenemos la capacidad de ser héroes. En algún momento, todos somos el héroe de alguien y el villano de otro. Todo es cuestión de perspectiva. Y eso cambia con tanta frecuencia como los ciclos de la luna.

Cuidado con confiar en hermosas criaturas. Esconden las sorpresas más malvadas.

¿Quién establece las escalas para lo que es más malvado? ¿Por qué la violencia física se considera terrible, pero un asalto a la mente o las emociones no tanto? ¿Qué hay de la persona que te hiere con sus palabras? ¿Qué hay de su deseo de verte sangrar lágrimas? Ellos también consumen tu dolor. Sus corazones laten de odio. Ganan placer al difundir su negatividad nociva.

Eres mi corazón, mi alma, mi igual. Ves la luz en mí cuando estoy perdido en la oscuridad. Cuando tengo frío y estoy distante, eres tan cálido como el sol del otoño y me bañas en tu resplandor. Si yo soy la noche, entonces ustedes son las estrellas que iluminan mi oscuridad infinita. Mi mejor amiga, el amor absoluto de mi vida, ahora hasta siempre, te llamo mi esposa.

At some point, we're all someone's hero and another's villain. It's all a matter of perspective. And that changes as frequently as the cycles of the moon.

Reichert, David, Chasing the Devil: My Twenty-Year Quest to Capture the Green River Killer

Delayed gratification is the basis of euphoria.