Depths Of Depravity Quotes

The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next gas station.

What could drive someone to that depth of depravity, taking the lives of men, women, and children he does not know and has no personal grudge against, just to make some deranged political or religious point?

The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers . . . and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls . . . Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

The shape of evil is much more superficiality and blindness than the usual list of hot sins. God hides, and is found, precisely in the depths of everything.

There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge.

Could anything possibly be more humorous than believing in the depth or in the depravity of the Parisian character?

because of my deep-seated opinion that war itself is a crime; that the killing of one child, the burning of one village, the dropping of one bomb sinks us into such depths of depravity that there’s no use bickering over the particulars.

He knew what he was, what depths of depravity and cruelty he had plumbed, what ambitions drove him. He prided himself on knowing those things—but that didn’t mean he needed anyone else to see them as well.

My guess was that when you descended to a certain depth of depravity, the Fogs could smell you as a hound, catching a murderer’s spoor, could track the criminal through forest, field, and moor.

All I wanted to do was hide away from the world, but I still had a role to play. I had to be 'Girl A' - the key witness in the trial that finally saw my abusers locked up. Girl A - the girl in the newspaper stories who had been through the most hideous experience imaginable. When I read those stories, I felt like I was reading about somebody else, another girl who was subjected to the depths of human depravity. But it wasn't. It was about me. I am Girl A.

For the wanderer astray, the hermit seeking the lost books To him the bitter path of knowledge is truly germane And to gaze at the grand canvas of depravity, the deified crooks All the depth of duplicity of the celestial rulers most profane.

History is not the story of heroes entirely. It is often the story of cruelty and injustice and shortsightedness. There are monsters, there is evil, there is betrayal. That's why people should read Shakespeare and Dickens as well as history ~~ they will find the best, the worst, the height of noble attainment and the depths of depravity.

I must have had a dozen rides that evening. They blear into a nightmare, the one scarcely distinguishable from the other. It quickly became obvious why they picked me up. All but two picked me up the way they would pick up a pornographic photograph or book - except that this was verbal pornography. With a Negro, they assumed they need give no semblance of self-respect or respectability. The visual element entered into it. In a car at night visibility is reduced. A man will reveal himself in the dark, which gives the illusion of anonymity, more than he will in the bright light. Some were shamelessly open, some shamelessly subtle. All showed morbid curiosity about the sexual life of the Negro, and all had, at base, the same stereotyped image of the Negro as an inexhaustible sex-machine with oversized genitals and a vast store of experiences, immensely varied. They appeared to think that the Negro has done all of those “special” things they themselves have never dared to do. They carried the conversations into depths of depravity.

People should be measured by the depth of their depravities. Virtue can be ignored, whereas our depravities leave an indelible mark upon everyone we touch.

The darkest of man’s imaginings can never match the reality of the depths of his depravity. 

Among the many appalling things about the past, it is hard to know which was the worst, since there are all too many candidates, from around the world, for that designation. That something like the Holocaust could have happened, after thousands of years of civilization, and in one of the most advanced societies, is almost as incomprehensible intellectually as it is devastating morally and in terms of showing what depths of depravity are possible in all human beings. It is a painful reminder of a description of civilization as “a thin crust over a volcano.

In the desert, Christ encounters Satan (see Luke 4:1–13 and Matthew 4:1–11). This story has a clear psychological meaning—a metaphorical meaning—in addition to whatever else material and metaphysical alike it might signify. It means that Christ is forever He who determines to take personal responsibility for the full depth of human depravity. It means that Christ is eternally He who is willing to confront and deeply consider and risk the temptations posed by the most malevolent elements of human nature. It means that Christ is always he who is willing to confront evil—consciously, fully and voluntarily—in the form that dwelt simultaneously within Him and in the world. This is nothing merely abstract (although it is abstract); nothing to be brushed over. It’s no merely intellectual matter.

A southerner by choice, Akerman found it sobering to verify the depth of Klan penetration in the region, which “revealed a perversion of moral sentiment among the Southern whites which bodes ill to that part of the country for this generation.”97 On a single day in November, 250 people in one South Carolina county confessed affiliation with the group. As Akerman expressed the matter with deep feeling: “I doubt whether from the beginning of the world until now, a community, nominally civilized, has been so fully under the domination of systematic and organized depravity.”98

Every revolution other than the American has proven to be a failure or a disaster. The French Revolution, for instance, began with the glorious affirmation of “liberty, equality and fraternity” and ended with Robespierre’s Reign of Terror. What finally brought the Terror to an end was the ascent of Napoleon to the throne. Democracy itself was overthrown, only returning slowly, haltingly, over the subsequent century and a half. The Russian Revolution was an unmitigated disaster from the beginning, and at its nadir it reached depths of tyranny and depravity rivaled only by Mao and Hitler.

One of the worst things that was done to us during the year of COVID was the purposeful attempt to divide us and further isolate us from one another. One of the very few mitigating factors of mass trauma is the sense that we are all in it together. In times of war, for example, suicide rates go down because there is a sense of common purpose. Members of the Trump administration made that impossible not because they were incompetent but because they thought it was a winning strategy. Promoting divisiveness among us suited their purposes, just as setting up a false dichotomy between the pandemic and the economy did. In real time it could be hard to gauge how cynical and cruel this ploy was, but in retrospect the extent of the deliberate sabotage is breathtaking. It’s hard to grapple with what was taken from us and even harder to fathom the depth of depravity required to do the taking.

Think it’s time for you to show me some sweet so I remember why it is I put up with you.” I knew he was angry and that he had a reason to be, but I couldn’t stop the blush of mortification and the prickle of defensive anger that ignited somewhere in the base of my belly and tangled with the lust that was kindled there. “King,” I tried. His gaze cut up from between my thighs and sliced into me. “Do it.” I dropped to my elbows, readjusting myself so I didn’t fall off the small table and delicately pulled my skirt up over my groin. His eyes marked each minute movement of my fingers as they crawled down my naked folds. “You’re wet already,” he told me. He didn’t have to. I overflowed like a river in spring, my fingers running laps in the current. “Show me,” he ordered. I spread my lips open for he could see the depth of my depravity. He could make my pussy glisten for him just by being a badass biker asshole. I didn’t know if it said good things about me, but I didn’t care. “Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said before he reached out to run two fingers down my slit.

We have resolved to know nothing but Christ and Him crucified. All revelation and experience flow out of this fountain. O the depths and the riches! God has forever poured Himself out in a concrete act of assuming our human nature and redeeming mankind completely from depravity, decay and alienation. This was not a limited act for a select few. For God was in Christ reconciling the cosmos to Himself (2 Cor. 5:19). There is no limited atonement any more than there is a limited incarnation. Fully man for all of humanity. Christ plunged headlong into the human condition. Sinless though He was, He assumed fallen flesh like ours at its most corrupted level. He baptized that same humanity in His death and brought it back to life in the will of the Father and the power of Holy Spirit. Such a mystical connection we have! Christ wove mankind into the Trinitarian life – there is forever a resurrected human being sitting in the middle of the Godhead. And there we sit in Him, fully united to God in heavenly places. In assuming the human form, He assumed and included all of humanity into Himself. As early Church father Gregory Nazianzen says, “the unassumed is the unredeemed.” And we know from the apostle Paul that “as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22).

One former prisoner, Reza Baraheni, reported to AI the following: Not every prisoner goes through the same process, but generally, this is what happens to a prisoner of the first importance. First, he is beaten by several torturers at once, with sticks and clubs. If he doesn’t confess, he is hanged upside down and beaten; if this doesn’t work, he is raped; and if he still shows signs of resistance, he is given electric shock which turns him into a howling dog; and if he is still obstinate, his nails and sometimes all his teeth are pulled out; and in certain cases, a hot iron rod is put into one side of the face to force its way to the other side, burning his entire mouth and tongue. A young man was killed this way….24 And the United States, while trying to claim at times that it was unaware of the depths of depravity of the SAVAK, was quite aware in real time what it was up to. As one example, a State Department cable from December 5, 1978, matter-of-factly details the complaints of the bazaaris about the SAVAK: BAZAARIS EXPRESSED GENERAL COMPLAINTS AGAINST THE SHAH SIMILAR TO THOSE HEARD ELSEWHERE, I.E., CORRUPTION OF HIGH-LEVEL OFFICIALS, MURDER AND TORTURE OF OPPOSITIONISTS, OVER-CONCENTRATION OF POWER AND POOR ECONOMIC DECISIONMAKING. HOWEVER, BAZAARIS CONCENTRATED THEIR IRE ON SAVAK AND ITS FORMER CHIEF NEMATOLLAH NASSIRI. SAVAK UNDER NASSIRI, THEY SAID, HAS KILLED AND TORUTURED (sic.) THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE. DURING THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE AYATOLLAH TALEGHANI, SAVAK JAILORS HAD RAPED THE WOMEN IN HIM [His] HOME AND FORCED TALEGHANI TO DRINK HIS JAILORS’ URINE.25

I knew Laura wasn’t home this morning, so there was no possibility of her hearing the shot and rushing over to help, placing herself in mortal danger. Which she would have gladly done, because that’s who she was in real life, as well as on television; though her popular show was no longer on the air, her legions of fans adored her, and continued to watch her show in syndication. Like Laura, they believed in decency, the hereafter, hope and goodness. Laura’s fans were the quiet majority in America. They were the people networks, and society in general, did not want you to believe existed. They did not keep up with the Kardashians, had no interest in squabbles between little women in any city, abhorred the depths of depravity and graphic violence so endemic it seemed of every crime show being produced, were sickened by the shallow and inconsequential reality television shows, and would no sooner have spent an hour watching Style or E! than they would have planning an evening out with a convicted serial killer — even if television did portray one as being “cool” because he unrealistically helped catch others of his ilk. Sure, that crap got good ratings, but that was because decent people no longer watched much television. In our day, the Love Boat’s calm, happy seas of the ‘70s and ‘80s had become a sleazy, violent, often gender-bending cruise into politically correct waters so liberally tolerant of everything but religious faith, that anyone pointing out the iceberg just ahead in these foul-smelling and morally dark seas was immediately vilified.

There are many faces to the horrors of war-- decimation, mutilation, barbarity, and, of course, death itself. But one of the most savage and dehumanizing consequences of armed conflict is the prison system that springs up to house enemy combatants--and ordinary citizens too. These hellish camps encapsulate the lowest depths of human depravity; ruled by violence and degeneracy, political prisoners are forced to endure unthinkable conditions and unchecked cruelty--all without any chance of reprieve. Uta Christensen's latest novel, Caught: Surviving the Turbulent River of Life, chronicles this appalling consequence of war, weaving a narrative of atrocity that, despite its artful inventions and complex characters, is so starkly based on grim realities... that one cannot help but shudder. Caught tells the story of Janos, a young German boy kidnapped by the Nazis during WWII--and forced into a Russian prison camp. There, Janos must survive against all odds, fighting off starvation and death at every turn as the years march on... and he becomes a man. It is, in fact, within the hardships of this very crucible, that Janos thrives, overcoming the frailties and ignobilities of existence to discover friendship, compassion, and love--making him into the apotheosis of an upstanding, self-reliant citizen: a true model to all his fellow countrymen. Told in flashbacks, Caught: Surviving the Turbulent River of Life explores the intricate nature of suffering and memory, delving into the complexities of how the past--even the most vicious episodes--informs the present... and the very nature of the self. Uta Christensen, with striking prose and a poetic sensibility, brings the darker chapters of history to life in such a way that one is instantly captivated by a concurrent horror and pity, a sense of tragedy, but too a catharsis in overcoming, in human resilience and beauty itself. A truly breathtaking novel, Caught is a tour de force of literary perfection; poignant, unremitting, and painfully real, this book is essential reading for all those willing to face hard truths--and grow from them.

The blog just seemed to flesh out details of what they already knew, with the only revelation to carry genuine shock value being that an innocent abroad on her first tour had taken a remarkably short time to plumb the true depths of rock depravity in shagging a drummer.

You know my depths now, little sister. You know my depravity. I can’t let you go, not now…not ever.

We can't just displace our flesh and our love for the world by cataloguing all the ways we've been disappointed by our sin or by the world. Perhaps you've seen already how ineffective it is to complain to your friends about any disappointments you've had in your motherhood. Simply airing these discouragements does not provoke in us a thrilling sense of hope in God. Plummeting headlong into disenfranchisement with God's gifts is an incomplete and ultimately useless cure for the heart's ills. This kind of ascetic fervor in renouncing the beauties of motherhood is no more distinctly Christian than the hedonism of a mother who idolizes her motherhood. The depth of our depravity and our heart's inclination to justify itself mean something significant. They mean that merely lamenting the insufficiency of the world is an incompetent way to rescue and recover our captive heart from wrong affections. Our heart needs to be redeemed by Jesus and made new. The superior power of affection and devotion to Jesus can do what no lament of the world or of the temporality of God's earthly gifts could ever do. Simply demonstrating how the lures of _____ and the wiles of _____ will end up biting you back is not enough. You have to introduce a greater affection to the soul -- one that is "powerful enough to dispossess the first of its influence.

Deeper and deeper, I fall into the depths of his depravity, and I find that I never want to come out.

When we realize the depravity of our sins and the depths of our rebellion against God, it exceeds the mind’s capacity to grasp this grace. What could we do to deserve such forgiveness? Nothing at all! He engulfs us with his infinite love and absolute mercy, though we cannot earn it.

After a certain level of trauma is reached, the only choice we have is to either feel the pain in all its depth and depravity or choose numbness—ice to assuage the heat.

On February 12, 1941, the Dutch Nazi newspaper reported that Jews with sharpened teeth had ripped open the necks of Nazi soldiers and sucked their blood like vampires. The depths of the Nazi lies and depravity shook us all.

Equally scandalized by this election are the colorful band of lipstick jihadi Hirsi Ali wannabes who are writing one erotic fantasy after another about Iranian “women,” oversexualizing Iranian politics as they opt for “love and danger” during their “honeymoon in Tehran.” The representation of Iranian women in the flea market of the US publishing industry began under President Bush with Azar Nafisi’s Reading Lolita in Tehran and has now reached a new depth of depravity in Pardis Mahdavi’s Passionate Uprisings: Iran’s Sexual Revolution. Between a harem full of Lolitas and a bathhouse of nymphomaniacs is where Nafisi and Mahdavi have Iranian women, marching in despair, awaiting liberation by US marines and Israeli bombers. What a contrast to the real work of women, as testified to in this election, and now on the street in defense of the collective will of the nation.

The Bible says that immediately before Jesus’s return, a mighty angel will come down from heaven crying out, “Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great!”2 Now that’s strange because historic Babylon has ceased to exist and according to biblical prophecy will never be rebuilt or inhabited again. So why harken back to a kingdom that’s already long gone? The answer is simple. Babylon is the personification of evil. Even at the end of human history, it will still represent to the angelic host the worst of the worst. Nothing will ever reach its depths of depravity. Not al Qaeda. Not Mexican drug lords. Not the Tower of Babel. Not Sodom. Not Gomorrah. Not even Nazi Germany.

He knew evil was bound up in the heart of mankind. If you took away swords from good men, then only evil men would find a way to have swords, and they would end up killing the good. But the depth of depravity that shook his soul most was the sexual perversity that saturated the cities. There was no respect for persons, animals or even things, as they engaged in rampant carnal excess. Regardless of the abortifacient herbs and potions, there was an explosion of births that the citizens had no desire to take responsibility for. This epidemic of unwanted infants became a source for human sacrifice to Molech, the underworld deity. Some just left their infants in the wilderness, to die of exposure to the elements and wild animals. It was called a “necessary evil.” Everyone claimed it was a tragedy so many babies had to be sacrificed, but they fought for a mother’s right to sacrifice her offspring or the gods would curse them with oppression. Ironically, oppression was what Lot constantly felt, living there as a citizen.

Among the numerous heartbreaks of this terrible war, the innocent horses shot, abused, and killed would not rank among the worst atrocities—but somehow, the killing of innocent beasts, domesticated animals who existed only for man's beauty and pleasure, seemed to highlight the barbaric and depraved depths to which man had allowed himself to sink.

Yes, I’m her teacher. Yes, I shove my cock in her, rigorously and with unadulterated depravity, morning and night. But the depth of my feelings for her goes so far beyond bullshit laws I really don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. But

King is a sick bastard. I think we shouldn’t be surprised by the depth of his depravity.” “They

Society has reached such extreme heights of absurdity, and massive depths of depravity, that I can no longer accurately distinguish between truth and satire. That line is as blurry as Bigfoot.

She had no idea her breathlessness and open berry-red lips called to him. Even her anger excited him. Her hatred made him want her. He had not been prepared for the depths of his own depravity. But there was a reason he was known as Sin. Part of him reveled in the depraved. And this physical battle between them? It was the stuff depravity was made of. “Oh, marry me, you will,” he promised her. And then he gave in to temptation, to wickedness. He pressed his mouth over hers. He would not call it a kiss, because it was not that; it was less and yet so much more. It was a claiming. It was also possession. He would never raise his hand to a woman, regardless of what she had done to him, but he wanted to dominate Lady Calliope Manning. He wanted her weak. On her knees. He would settle for her mouth. He kissed her viciously, with bruising force. And it startled him, how much he liked it. How suddenly ravenous he was for her, this woman he loathed, this capricious chit who had brought about his ruin with her wild imagination and poison pen. There was something between them. Something more than hatred. More than lust. He kissed her, and he forgot why they were here, what she had done, how he had taken her from London, her subsequent attack with the worthless piece of pottery. For a moment, he forgot all the reasons. Forgot everything but the woman beneath him.

I used to think Seraphine was an avenging angel, but she’s a beautiful little devil sent to tempt me into the depths of depravity. And I’ll follow her into all seven circles of hell.

You know my depths now, little sister. You know my depravity. I can’t let you go, not now… not ever.

the way you let those delicate moans slip free when you ride your own hand, thinking of what we could’ve had if you hadn’t testified against me. I know the depths of your depravity and the way your mind works. I know you more than you know yourself, you little fucking minx.

As long as our hearts and minds are set on the things of this world, we will never appreciate the extent of our depravity nor understand the depth of God’s mercy and grace.

Blue satin bras and killing pits were ever after twinned in my mind. The one, in its self-conscious cupidity, limned the depths to the other. All at once I appreciated the depravity and banality of the human animal. I was positively wearied by wisdom. Shyla's bra, my friends and I discussed at length. The horror page stayed secret in my mind. Silly gorgeous girls, they weren't ready for that sort of knowledge. Not yet and maybe not ever.

The encounter with the demoniacs of Gergesa had a lesson for the disciples. It showed the depths of degradation to which Satan is seeking to drag the whole human race, and the mission of Christ to set men free from his power. Those wretched beings, dwelling in the place of graves, possessed by demons, in bondage to uncontrolled passions and loathsome lusts, represent what humanity would become if given up to satanic jurisdiction. Satan’s influence is constantly exerted upon men to distract the senses, control the mind for evil, and incite to violence and crime. He weakens the body, darkens the intellect, and debases the soul. Whenever men reject the Saviour’s invitation, they are yielding themselves to Satan. Multitudes in every department in life, in the home, in business, and even in the church, are doing this today. It is because of this that violence and crime have overspread the earth, and moral darkness, like the pall of death, enshrouds the habitations of men. Through his specious temptations Satan leads men to worse and worse evils, till utter depravity and ruin are the result. The only safeguard against his power is found in the presence of Jesus. Before men and angels Satan has been revealed as man’s enemy and destroyer; Christ, as man’s friend and deliverer. His Spirit will develop in man all that will ennoble the character and dignify the nature. It will build man up for the glory of God in body and soul and spirit. “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Tim. 1:7. He has called us “to the obtaining of the glory”—character—“of our Lord Jesus Christ;” has called us to be “conformed to the image of His Son.” 2 Thess. 2:14; Rom. 8:29. And souls that have been degraded into instruments of Satan are still through the power of Christ transformed into messengers of righteousness, and sent forth by the Son of God to tell what “great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee.

When wealth and riches are at stake, there is no depth a human might not drop to for a chance to obtain them.

I would wonder if the depravity in our world survives on the lie that our depth can’t overcome it.

In March 1872, he turned 24. He was already a widower, and a fellow who had had repeated brushes with the law. He had no home and no real prospects, and, writes Sherry Monahan, he apparently continued his downward spiral into the depths of depravity. Wyatt was a lonely man touched by tragedy who was reluctant or unable to make friends and to let anyone get close to him. It would have been very easy for him to fall in with the wrong crowd and repeat the ill-advised horse stealing escapade, or worse. Instead, Wyatt went to Wichita and found redemption.

These problems were Miss Marple’s first introduction to the world of detective story readers. Miss Marple has some faint affinity with my own grandmother, also a pink and white pretty old lady who, although having led the most sheltered and Victorian of lives, nevertheless always appeared to be intimately acquainted with all the depths of human depravity.

Vaguely, I was aware of the depth of my depravity, fucking like an animal in a graveyard. Vaguely, I wondered if I might be smote down by God. Resolutely, I decided if I died there and then while impaled on Priest’s long, ruthless cock, I’d die a happy sinner and live forever content in hell.

Their first priority was the more than 150 passengers and crew of l’Étoile, especially the women and children now somewhere in the interior and at the mercy of medieval psychopaths so violent and depraved that the sheltered populations of the West could not for long hold in mind the depth of their conscienceless cruelty. The men on Athena had no such luxury.

God’s grace reaches down to the lowest depths of our need and meets all the exigencies of the moral and spiritual impossiblity which inheres in our depravity and inability. And that grace is the grace of regeneration.

When I learned about human trafficking and the depths of its depravity, I was sickened.

thought that you are the only person I’ve ever known whom I would allow to carve out my beating heart and flay it before my eyes. With you, life would forever be intriguing, entrancing. I want to witness the heights of your anger and the depths of your depravity. I want to linger with you in your apathy and dive with you into your passion. I want to do all those things with you, for all time. That is what I thought.