Evil Nun Quotes

On the black cotton was printed a white skull and crossbones - the skull head grinning as if he were mocking her. The nun struggled for her breath and wanted to drop the evil little banner, but her fingers wouldn't let go of it - making her stare into its horrid death face as if she were looking at her own end.

probably because I am a good girl and you are an evil nun,

My problem is I love sex. No joking I really love sex. Life without sex is unbearable for me. As a child my mum says I loved men and hated women. I use to smile at men when I was in the pram and offer them lollipops or sweeties. I guess it is in my genes, my little weakness. I can live without the Valium and Vodka but not my sex. To me my choice is simple men or Paradise and I love them both. I cannot make that choice. It is like there is some evil force driving me to flirt and sleep around. No one man has ever been enough for me and now I have to live like a nun in rehab. I am not bold I am just misunderstood. No, don’t laugh it is an illness and an exhausting one I am so tired, so very tired.

My life was going exactly where I wanted it to until the Devil showed up.

The black of the ocean waves was the color of the sorrow in my breast, a sorrow that was never far away and always visible.

I was once a man, not a great man, not a saintly man, but a good man, and a man nonetheless.

God himself had sent me away. I was truly now among the damned.

Iona stared at me for a long time. “You are going to leave me a widow before I have a chance to become a bride.

Stop thinking that nuns are sweet and kind like Maria in The Sound of Music. That's just a movie. Think of the evil old bruja in 'Hansel and Gretal.

Then it kissed me—not as a man would kiss a lover, not with tenderness or even passion. This was a kiss that stole the soul of men. Revulsion at this creature’s kiss was instantly replaced by the warmth stealing through my veins, as if my missing blood were being replenished and contrived to heal me. I craved to keep kissing the beast. My entire being awakened to that kiss feeding me ecstasy, feeding me life.

I grew up back and forth between the British Isles: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales. I spent short periods of time in France, Italy, and South Africa. This is my first time in the States. I was disappointed by Atlanta at first — I'd wanted to live in New York-but it's grown on me.” Everything about Kaidan was exciting and exotic. This was my first time traveling away from home, and he'd already seen so much. I ate my apple, glad it was crisp and not soft. “Which was your favorite place?” I asked. “I've never been terribly attached to any place. I guess it would have to be...here.” I stopped midchew and examined his face. He wouldn't look at me. He was clenching his jaw, tense. Was he serious or was he teasing me? I swallowed my bite. “The Texas panhandle?” I asked. “No.” He seemed to choose each word with deliberate care. “I mean here in this car. With you.” Covered in goose bumps, I looked away from him and stared straight ahead at the road, letting my hand with the apple fall to my lap. He cleared his throat and tried to explain. “I've not talked like this with anyone, not since I started working, not even to the only four people in the world who I call friends. You have Patti, and even that boyfriend of yours. So this has been a relief of sort. Kind of...nice.” He cleared his throat again. Oh, my gosh. Did we just have a moment? I proceeded with caution, hoping not to ruin it. “It's been nice for me, too,” I said. “I've never told Jay anything. He has no idea. You're the only one I've talked to about it all, except Patti, but it's not the same. She learned the basics from the nun at the convent where I was born.” “You were born in a convent,” he stated. “Yes.” “Naturally.

I'd heard a Catholic nun on TV once saying that bearing suffering was the route to grace. I remembered Fluff saying: If there's a God he's addicted to faith. Because without evil there's no need for faith. I can't get excited about a God who's divinity depends on a drug habit.

I did not choose to be a monster—a shell of a man—half-human, half-fiend. I am a tiefling. I am what I am.

It would not interfere with your being a nun. I live like an evil-minded monk myself.

Russian bolshevism, replacing eastern Christendom by the grim religiosity of Marx, produced a caricature of the evangelical counsels with many a diabolical aspect. There is a good deal of “communism” in monasteries and convents, yet this is based upon a voluntary renunciation of perfect human rights. On account of our free will we can make supreme sacrifices which ennobles our very existence. Bolshevism on the other hand forces us brutally into a parody of monastic life amidst fellow monks and fellow nuns who hate their habit and sigh under the ferocious tyranny of their pseudo-abbot. This evil distortion of an otherwise Christian ideal is more satanic than wanton, a thoroughly pagan and diabolic opposition to Christian existence. This explains also the reason why the Vatican has found stronger words against “altruistic” bolshevism than against egoistic capitalism

Self-hatred seems to me an evil thing in itself rather than an antidote to evil. If we practice self-hatred, then the sacrifice we make of ourselves and our lives is not sacred, for it is then a gift of something we hate rather than of something that we have nurtured and loved.

I can’t accept it,” I answered. “Accept what?” I wasn’t certain I could put my tangled, poisonous thoughts into words. It felt blasphemous to even try. “That—that there can be such a thing as…not necessary evil, because evil is never necessary—it can’t be—but…acceptable evil. Hurt and cruelty that the Lady would allow in service to Her will. Like the goat in Naimes,” I said, dimly aware I’d never told the revenant about the goat and it would probably think I had lost my mind. “She wouldn’t make someone kick the goat.” The revenant was quiet—a careful, pained pause. “Nun,” it said. isn’t that what She’s done to you?

I pray for Nun Hiền often. Not only did she save my life, and Thuận’s life, but she also rescued my soul. Inspired by her, I became a Buddhist. I’ve been practicing Nhẫn, the principle of patience, which teaches me how to love other human beings. Only through love can we drive away the darkness of evil from this earth.

My mom’s messed up,” his mom said. “The nuns messed her up. They made her think everything Indian was evil. And that includes you and me.

Is it true that spirits can’t remember anything about their human lives?” “Yes,” it answered tartly. I had never considered before now that someone would have needed to speak to a spirit to learn that information. I had always merely accepted it as one of the Clerisy’s teachings. “So you don’t know whether you were a man or a woman in life.” “No, and I don’t see why it matters. Humans are so tedious. Oh, you have dangly bits. Congratulations, you’re going to put on armor and swing a sword about. Oh, you’ve ended up with the other kind. Too bad—time to have babies or become a nun.” It wasn’t exactly that simple, but I decided that I didn’t want to argue about the Clerisy’s hierarchy with a Fifth Order spirit. Also, it had a point. “It would be useful if you did remember something. We still don’t know why your soul turned into a revenant.” “No doubt because I was horrifically nasty and evil,” it spat.

Wir lernen aus unserer eigenen Geschichte, wozu der Mensch fähig ist. Deshalb dürfen wir uns nicht einbilden, wir seien nun als Menschen anders und besser geworden. Es gibt keine endgültig errungene moralische Vollkommenheit - für niemanden und kein Land! Wir haben als Menschen gelernt, wir bleiben als Menschen gefährdet. Aber wir haben die Kraft, Gefährdungen immer von neuem zu überwinden." [Ansprache am 8. Mai 1985 in der Gedenkstunde im Plenarsaal des Deutschen Bundestages]

Ironically groups of nuns or lesbians are often mistaken for one another today, since we often travel in female packs oblivious to male attention or needs. Eschewing the cosmetics and costumes of the commercially promoted feminine mystique, both nuns and lesbians are emotionally inaccessible to male coercion. Time and energy which heterosexual women devote to catering to men can be focused on private or communal projects. Despite similarities, a male-defined culture which moralizes about "sins of the flesh" and the pollution and evil of women's carnal desires sees both nuns and lesbians as "unnatural" but at opposite poles on a scale of female virtue.

97 Oh how  xI love your law! It is my  ymeditation all the day. 98 Your commandment makes me  zwiser than my enemies, for it is ever with me. 99 I have more understanding than all my teachers, for  ayour testimonies are my meditation. 100 I understand more than  bthe aged, [8] for I  ckeep your precepts. 101 I  dhold back my feet from every evil way, in order to keep your word. 102 I do not turn aside from your rules, for you have taught me. 103 How  esweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! 104 Through your precepts I get understanding; therefore  fI hate every false way. Nun 105  gYour word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

Senseless people name evil good, call good evil. As you are doing. You accuse Us of passing false judgement: you do Us injustice. We shall prove this to you. You ask who We are: We are God’s handle, Master Death, a truly effective reaper. Our scythe works its way. It cuts down white, black, red, brown, green, blue, grey, yellow, and all kinds of lustrous flowers in its path, irrespective of their splendour, their strength, their virtue. And the violet’s beautiful colour, rich perfume, and palatable sap, avail it nought. See: that is justice. Our justification was acknowledged by the Romans and the poets, for they knew Us better than you do. You ask what We are: We are nothing, and yet something. Nothing, because We have neither life, nor being, nor form, and We are no spirit, not visible, not tangible; something, because We are the end of life, the end of existence, the beginning of nullity, a cross between the two. We are a happening that fells all people. Huge giants must fall before Us; all living beings must be transformed by Us. You ask where We are: We are not ascertainable. But Our form was found in a temple in Rome*, painted on a wall, as a hoodwinked man sitting on an ox; this man wielded a hatchet in his right hand and a shovel in his left hand, with which he was beating the ox. A great crowd of all kinds of people was hitting him, fighting him, and making casts at him, each one with the tools of his trade: even the nun with her psalter was there. They struck and made casts at the man on the ox, he who signified Us; yet Death contested and buried them all. Pythagoras likens Us to a man’s form with the eyes of a basilisk: they wandered to the ends of the Earth, and every living creature had to die at their glance. You ask where We are: We are from the Earthly Paradise. God created Us there and gave Us Our true name, when he said: «The day that ye bite of this fruit, ye shall die the death.» And for that reason We call ourself: «We, Death, mighty ruler and master on Earth, in the air, and in the rivers of the sea.» You ask what good We do: you have already heard that We bring the world more advantage than harm. Now cease, rest content, and thank Us for the kindness we have done you!

God has made me so that when once I love I love for ever, and so I continue to pray for this girl and I love her still. When I saw how Céline loved one of the nuns, I tried to imitate her, but I didn’t succeed, as I didn’t know how to get into people’s good graces. It was a fortunate ignorance which has saved me from much evil. I am profoundly grateful to Jesus who has never let me find anything but bitterness in earthly friendships. With a nature like mine, I should have been trapped and had my wings clipped and then how should I have “flown away and found rest”? It’s impossible for one bound by human affection to have intimate union with God. I’ve seen so many souls, dazzled by this deluding light, fly into it and burn their wings like silly moths. Then they turn again to the true unfading light of love and, with new and more splendid wings, fly to Jesus, that divine Fire which burns yet does not destroy. I know that Jesus considered me too weak to be exposed to temptation. If I had seen this false light shining before me, I should have been wholly destroyed. I’ve been saved from that. I have found nothing but bitterness where stronger souls have found happiness and yet remained properly detached. So it’s no merit on my part that I never became entangled by love of creatures; I was saved only by the great mercy of God.

There is no creation without destruction. There is no light without dark. That's what my nuns didn't understand. It isn't a competition. Good and evil are all part of the same thing.

nuns. Their evil design against

There was an evil wind howling through the undulating hills that night, rattling the loose panes in the windows of the cottage, keeping me up all night. Unbidden, the Lord’s prayer came to my lips, Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name… I said it moving my lips silently, as I had all those years ago, on my cold hard bed in the convent back in Calcutta. Praying didn’t come easily to me anymore, I had to hack out the words from deep within myself, but it brought me solace. It warmed a part of the soul that I long thought had shrivelled up and died. I grew up with prayer, it was difficult not to when one was growing up in a convent, surrounded by threats of hell and brimstone and the overwhelming guilt that one was inherently evil being drilled into our brains by the nuns. They might have been well meaning in order to keep a bunch of unruly children in line, but ended up scarring us with a concept of a vindictive God one could never really love.

evil is, after all, only a deficiency of goodness.

The Roman Catholic Church also suffered heavy losses - 422 Catholic priests, 962 Catholic monks and countless Catholic nuns and laypeople were killed.107

The monk, Gregory the Great, tells how a nun, in her greed, ate a lettuce without first making the sign of the cross to protect herself against the evil spirits that hide between its leaves, and so she became possessed by a demon. Greetwell

Yeah, the whole nun thing was looking better and better. I couldn’t possibly go full-out evil if I were a nun, could I?

The dreams began with that mysterious fever, which some blamed on the sting of a huge red scorpion that appeared in the house one day and was never seen again, and others on the evil designs of a mad nun who crept into houses at night to poison children and who, years later, was to be garroted reciting the Lord’s Prayer backward with her eyes popping out of their sockets, while a red cloud spread over the town and discharged a storm of dead cockroaches.

The nuns used to say, ‘Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.

The nuns made sure there wasn’t the slightest possibility of provocation or desire that could awaken the evils of boy temptation, which only existed outside of school, while we respectable teenagers—an endangered species—were protected by the tackiest most unfashionable pieces of clothing ever invented. As if someone’s barf had become the color palette of choice.

Life itself seems a ritual of sacrifice, and the world the altar on which plants and animals lay their own lives for the sustenance of others, and on which we lay our youth, our well-being, our loved ones, and finally our lives...Self-hatred seems to me an evil thing in itself rather than an antidote to evil. If we practice self-hatred, then the sacrifice we make of ourselves and our lives is not sacred, for it is then a gift of something we hate rather than of something that we have nurtured and loved.

The monk was everything dark and evil, had perverted the nun’s words, twisting them for his own vile purposes. Whatever mystical knowledge she had committed to the pages had been powerful perhaps, but not harmful. The manuscript as it was today was a corruption of the original

The most astonishing, countercultural truth in the kingdom of Jesus is that love and acceptance have zero basis in worth or accomplishment. A billionaire in the Upper East Side in New York City is no more worthy of love and acceptance than the schizophrenic homeless man sleeping in an alley in the Bronx. Before any of us build a business or declare bankruptcy, before we earn a PhD or drop out of high school, before we establish a soup kitchen or star in a porn video, we are equally loved by the God who shows no favoritism. Our personal success does not attract his love, nor does our failure expand or contract it. The God who is love loves us indiscriminately, passionately, furiously. That love was on cosmic display when, atop a Roman tree of crucifixion, Jesus became the millionaire and the addict, the nun and the stripper, the newborn baby and the wrinkled octogenarian. All humanity—with its sores and wounds and twisted souls and barren lives and evil-infested pasts—he became, that all humanity might become, in him, resplendent in the eyes of the Father.

I wasn’t going to let any of the other girls suffer the way I had. With psychos locked in closets and evil nuns and a fucking pedophile.

Mother Superior of the Sisters of Mercy herself was lying in wait for Jane at the foyer. "You have to keep in mind we only can restock our supplies once a month. Frankly, it always stresses our supplies of medications when Mr. Rogers is having a streak of bad luck. With fighting breaking out right and left..." "Mother Superior, this is Nigel Reid. Nigel, Mother Superior is head of the nuns that oversee this hospital. Anyone attacked by a monster is brought here to be treated." Which of course was all that took. TV hosts were kind of like napalm. You threw them at any major infestation and they cleaned out the area of all hostiles. Nigel lit up as if introduced to Santa Claus. "Oh, how simply wonderful to meet you!" Taggart caught what she had done and his eyes glittered with his smile. "That was pure evil." "Judicial use of resources is always appropriate.

One candidate, Casia, who later became a nun and a poet of distinction, lost the throne by speaking out of turn. As the emperor was about to hand her the apple, he remarked that it was through women that evil had entered the world. Casia retorted that it was also through women that the Supreme Being - Jesus Christ - entered the world. Her outspokenness startled the emperor, who quickly selected another candidate. The empress had her own court in the women’s quarters

Did poverty in itself lead to moral failings, such as crime? Was "goodness" something that could be objectified and measured? Did society benefit directly from individual virtue, and therefore have incentive to promote it? Did our concepts of goodness have their foundations in religious and spiritual practice? What about the notion that money was the root of all evil, and those monks and nuns who felt it necessary to deny themselves material wealth?

A holy sisterhood devoted to protecting the world from evil spirits.” I perked up a bit. “You mean demon-fighting ninja nuns?” “Basically, yes.

Nothing good happens in war, every war is concentrated evil.