Interview With The Devil Quotes

People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil... Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.

Don't be a fool for the Devil, darling.

I’d like to meet the devil some night,’ he said once with a malignant smile. ‘I’d chase him from here to the wilds of the Pacific. I am the devil.

I no nothing of god or the devil, and after 400 years... This is the only real evil left...

People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil. I don’t know why. No, I do indeed know why. Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.

I wanted love and goodness in this which is living death,' I said. 'It was impossible from the beginning, because you cannot have love and goodness when you do what you know to be evil, what you know to be wrong. You can only have the desperate confusion and longing and the chasing of phantom goodness in its human form. I knew the real answer to my quest before I ever reached Paris. I knew it when I first took a human life to feed my craving. It was my death. And yet I would not accept it, could not accept it, because like all creatures I don't wish to die! And so I sought for other vampires, for God, for the devil, for a hundred things under a hundred names. And it was all the same, all evil. And all wrong. Because no one could in any guise convince me of what I myself knew to be ture, that I was damned in my own mind and soul.

This evil, this concept, it comes from disappointment, from bitterness! Don't you see? Children of Satan! Children of God! Is this the only question you bring to me, is this the only power that obsesses you, so that you must make us gods and devils yourself when the only power that exists is inside ourselves? How could you believe in these old fantastical lies, these myths, these emblems of the supernatural?

I know nothing of God, or the Devil. I have never seen a vision nor learned a secret that will damn or save my soul.

Of those who had been eyewitnesses at Kill Devil Hills the morning of the 17th, John T. Daniels was much the most effusive about what he had felt. “I like to think about it now,” he would say in an interview years later. “I like to think about that first airplane the way it sailed off in the air . . . as pretty as any bird you ever laid your eyes on. I don’t think I ever saw a prettier sight in my life.” But it would never have happened, Daniels also stressed, had it not been for the two “workingest boys” he ever knew. It wasn’t luck that made them fly; it was hard work and common sense; they put their whole heart and soul and all their energy into an idea and they had the faith.

I’d like to meet the devil some night,’ he said once with a malignant smile. ‘I’d chase him from here to the wilds of the Pacific. I am the devil.’ And

No one’s there,” I whisper, and no sooner have the words left my lips than someone knocks. I startle violently enough that I knock over a candle. The silk rug catches almost instantly, yellow fire eating a quick path across the antique pattern. I’m still stamping out sparks when someone says, “What are you doing?” I look up. Alex’s replacement stands in my doorway. And although it’s past three in the morning, she’s dressed as if she’s about to walk into a law school interview. She’s even wearing collar studs. “Summoning the devil. What does it look like?

Žmonės, nustoję tikėti Dievu ir gėriu, ima tikėti šėtonu. Nežinau, kodėl. Ne, išties žinau, kodėl. Blogis visur įmanomas. O su gėriu situacija amžinai kebli.

Tell The Truth , and Shame The Devil.

Go to the devil!” said the stranger in a tremendous voice, and “Shut that door after you.” So that brief interview terminated.

She nudges him. “Oh, you devil. No wonder you interviewed for the Rage Knight post. Such a scoundrel!

{From Lindsey's address at the funeral of renowned scientist Luther Burbank. Burbank was one of the most beloved people in the early 20th century due to his countless contributions to humanity, but when, in an interview, he revealed that he was an atheist, the public quickly turned on him, sending him hundreds of death threats. Upset and grief stricken, the kind-hearted Burbank tried to respond to every letter amiably, a task that ultimately led to his death} . . . Luther Burbank had a philosophy that actually works for human betterment, that dares to challenge the superstition, hypocrisy, and sham, which so often have worked for cruelties, inquisitions, wars and massacres. Superstition that stood across the road of Progress, commanded, not by a god or gods, but the meanest devils that we know--Ignorance, Intolerance, Bigotry, Fanaticism, and Hate. The prejudiced beneficiaries of organized theology refused to see what Burbank, the gifted child of Nature, saw with a vision as crystal as theirs is dense and dark. And so they assailed him. One of the saddest spectacles of our times is the effort of hidebound theologians, still desperately trying to chain us to the past--in other forms that would still invoke the inquisitions, the fears, and the bigotries of the dark ages, and keep the world in chains. The chains of lies, hypocrisies, taboos, and the superstitions, fostered by the dying, but still the organized, relentless outworn theology of another age. They refuse to see that in their stupid lust for power they are endangering all that is good.

Am I damned? Am I from the devil? Is my very nature that of a devil? I was asking myself over and over. And if it is, why then do I revolt against it, tremble when Babette hurls a flaming lantern at me, turn away in disgust when Lestat kills? What have I become in becoming a vampire? Where am I to go?

It is precisely to prevent us from thinking too much that society pressurizes us all to get out of bed. In 1993, I went to interview the late radical philosopher and drugs researcher Terence McKenna. I asked him why society doesn’t allow us to be more idle. He replied: I think the reason we don’t organise society in that way can be summed up in the aphorism, “idle hands are the devil’s tool.” In other words, institutions fear idle populations because an Idler is a thinker and thinkers are not a welcome addition to most social situations. Thinkers become malcontents, that’s almost a substitute word for idle, “malcontent.” Essentially, we are all kept very busy . . . under no circumstances are you to quietly inspect the contents of your own mind. Freud called introspection “morbid”—unhealthy, introverted, anti-social, possibly neurotic, potentially pathological. Introspection could lead to that terrible thing: a vision of the truth, a clear image of the horror of our fractured, dissonant world. The

LaVey’s bible (1969), members worship the trinity of the devil—Lucifer, Satan, and the Devil—including nine pronouncements of the devil that Satan represents: 1. indulgence, instead of abstinence, 2. vital existence, instead of spiritual pipe dreams, 3. undefiled wisdom instead of hypocritical self-deceit, 4. kindness to those who deserve it, instead of love wasted on ingrates, 5. vengeance, instead of turning the other cheek, 6. responsibility, instead of concern for the psychic vampires, 7. man as just another animal, sometimes better, more often worse, than those who walk on all fours, who because of his divine and intellectual development has become the most vicious of all, 8. all of the so-called sins, as they lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification, 9. the best friend the church has ever had, as he has kept it in business all these years (LaVey, 1969, p. 25). Holmes (1990), who interviewed two

Robert Boyle, the English scientist largely responsible for the creation of the modern discipline of chemistry, interviewed miners in the 1670s in an attempt to discover whether the men had met with any “subterraneous demons . . . in what shape and manner they appear; what they portend and what they do.

Waxman devised something far more attention-grabbing and dramatic. The following Sunday, Burton was booked for an encore appearance on Meet the Press. The show’s host, Tim Russert, was quietly made aware of the discrepancy between the two sets of Hubbell transcripts.* On Sunday, when the cameras began rolling, Burton became an unwitting captive as Russert, the dean of Washington journalism and a maestro of the prosecutorial interview, confronted the chairman on air with evidence of the doctored transcripts. The uproar was immediate and intense. Gingrich, humiliated, condemned Burton’s committee as “the circus.” Republicans fumed at the embarrassment Burton had brought on them and demanded he atone for it. The Washington Post splashed the story across its front page: “Burton Apologizes to GOP.” The

The Devil is present everywhere that evil things happen within the normal laws of nature. In anyone who says: I don’t accept love, the love of my brothers and sisters, the love of God. And in many places, in all massacres, in every murder, in physical catastrophes, in every concentration camp, in all evil. Sometimes he shows himself, strangely, but also in cases of possession. But he’s much more dangerous where he doesn’t let himself be seen, where he can’t be done away with through exorcism. —Father Pedro Barrajon, excerpt from interview in Die Welt, December 2, 2005

The subtler and stranger the correlation—like the relationship between sunny weather and rising markets—the less likely that others would spot it and cause it to go away. “The signals that we have been trading without interruption for fifteen years make no sense,” Mercer explained to Mallaby in a rare interview in 2008. “Otherwise someone else would have found it.” The other advantage Renaissance held was its ability to exploit these faint patterns, even if they were individually modest. Because

When you investigate a crime in real time, on air, you have this problem of reverb. The reporting you do today will influence the interviews and responses you get tomorrow, because your subject will have heard your episode, and will know your doubts, and suspicions, and theories, and thoughts. They will know what others have told you. And it will influence what they in turn tell you. That’s fine for fiction, but it’s a serious problem from a journalistic standpoint, the telling of a story influencing the story as it’s unfolding. It’s bait and switch. It’s unfair to the listener. You have your footprints and fingerprints all over the story in a very postmodern way. The risk with that—the reason news organizations don’t do it—is that you’ll find inconsistencies. You’ll find people lied to you. You’ll find you overlooked a piece of information, and you may have to reassess or revamp your story. I’m not saying it’s unethical per se, just that there are these potential pitfalls.—Mark Pattinson, journalism professor, on the ethics of true crime podcasting

But why . . . you've said Lestat shouldn't have made you start with people. Did you mean . . . do you mean for you it was an aesthetic choice, not a moral one?’ ’Had you asked me then, I would have told you it was aesthetic, that I wished to understand death in stages. That the death of an animal yielded such pleasure and experience to me that I had only begun to understand it, and wished to save the experience of human death for my mature understanding. But it was moral. Because all aesthetic decisions are moral, really.’ ‘I don’t understand,’ said the boy. ‘I thought aesthetic decisions could be completely immoral. What about the cliché of the artist who leaves his wife and children so he can paint? Or Nero playing the harp while Rome burned?’ ‘Both were moral decisions. Both served a higher good, in the mind of the artist. The conflict lies between the morals of the artist and the morals of society, not between aesthetics and morality. But often this isn’t understood; and here comes the waste, the tragedy. An artist, stealing paints from a store, for example, imagines himself to have made an inevitable but immoral decision, and then he sees himself as fallen from grace; what follows is despair and petty irresponsibility, as if morality were a great glass world which can be utterly shattered by one act. But this was not my great concern then. I did not know these things then. I believed I killed animals for aesthetic reasons only, and I hedged against the great moral question of whether or not by my very nature I was damned. ’Because, you see, though Lestat had never said anything about devils or hell to me, I believed I was damned when I went over to him, just as Judas must have believed it when he put the noose around his neck. You understand?

And who else would show us a particle of love, a particle of compassion or mercy? Who else, knowing us as we know each other, could do anything but destroy us? Yet we can love each other.

Good literature is meant to comfort the disturbed and disturb the ones who are comfortable.

...I wanted to enter the Louvre. I formed words to tell Armand this, to ask him if he might help me do what was necessary to have the Louvre till dawn. "He thought it a very simple request. He said only he wondered why I had waited so long.

Oh, you think that’s all I’ve done? Murdering Father O’Hara and crucifying him? I have done plenty worse than that, Joe! You don’t want to know, but I will show you. You have forced my hand, and I don’t like it when anyone forces my hand. God cast me out of heaven and I’ve spent all my life waging a spiritual war against his latest and greatest creation. And now, you, you’ve tried to back out of this deal and I will show just how seething red my wrath is!” The Devil snarled, his face twisted into a most loathsome expression.

So, the Absolute would be the God above God?”  “The way I see it, and I don’t see it one way, God and the Devil are two binaries. For God to exist, He must exist without any badness. And so what happens of all the evil siphoned from the persona of God? That’s the Devil. They’re one and the same. One entirely good. The other entirely evil. Lords of their domains. One of heaven. The other of Hell. The Absolute would be someone who distilled the good and dubbed it God, filtered the bad and called it the Devil.” 

After fifteen minutes in the air, Sharko started leafing through the book on mass hysteria. As Dr. Taha Abou Zeid had briefly explained, this phenomenon had cut across time periods, nationalities, and religions. The author based his thesis on photos, eyewitness accounts, and interviews with specialists. In France, for instance, witch hunts in the Middle Ages had provoked an inordinate fear of the devil and mass acts of insanity: screaming crowds hungry for blood, mothers and children who cheered to see “witches” burning alive. The cases in the book were astounding. India, 2001: hundreds of individuals from different parts of New Delhi swear they were attacked by a fictional being, half man, half monkey, “with metal claws and red eyes.” Certain “victims” even leap from the window to flee this creature, who’d surged right out of the collective imagination. Belgium, 1990: the Belgian Society for the Study of Space Phenomena suddenly receives several thousand sightings of UFOs. The most likely cause was held to be sociopsychological. A sudden mania for looking for flying objects, exacerbated by the media: when you want to see something, you end up seeing it. Dakar: ninety high school students go into a trance and are brought to the hospital. Some speak of a curse; there are purification rituals and sacrifices to remedy the situation. Sharko turned the pages—it went on forever. Sects committing group suicide, panicked crowds, haunted house syndrome like the Amityville Horror, collective fainting spells at concerts…There was even a chapter on genocides, a “criminal mass hysteria,” according to the terms of certain psychiatrists: organizers who plan coldly, calculatingly, while those who execute sink into a frenzy of wholesale destruction and butchery.

In a 2014 interview with New York Magazine, senior Associate Justice Antonin Scalia stated his belief that there is an actual devil. Not a mythical creature representing the dark side of the human heart, but an actual, malevolent entity living in a fiery netherworld who, like some Bond villain holding a pitchfork instead an albino pussycat, is actually plotting to corrupt mankind. This was stated with confidence, even arrogance, by a man who made decisions affecting the lives of 350 million Americans and, by extension, the world.

One afternoon I lay on my bed, inert with mental fatigue, enumerating my many frustrations with the country & with the task I had set myself. It had taken me months of work to get this far, & every step of the way I felt I was pushing against some mighty, unspoken resistance. Time & time again I had felt that hardly a fact or a single item of information had been volunteered; every day I made half a dozen telephone calls; I trekked out to interview anyone who would talk to me, then found myself returning to the same place to ask for more information--questions I had omitted to ask, chase details they did not think, or perhaps wish, to supply. This was as true of people who had no reason to dissemble as of those who did.

and she whipped my little sister what was only nine months old and jes' a baby to death. She come and took the diaper offen my little sister and whipped till the blood jes' ran—jes' 'cause she cry like all babies do, and it kilt my sister. I never forgot that, but I sot some even with that old Polly devil and it's this-a-way.[Pg 26] "You

Your God wanted to light the match; it was I who begged the question of how long it would take for the place to burn down.

Babette had died young, insane, restrained finally from wandering towards the ruins of Pointe du Lac, insisting she had seen the devil there and must find him;

Likewise, in the eleventh-hour simulations atop the rocket at the Cape. Al showed only one sign of stress: the cycles—Smilin’ Al/Icy Commander—now came one on top of the other, in the same place, and alternated so suddenly that the people around him couldn’t keep track. They learned a little more about the mysterious Al Shepard here in the eleventh hour. Smilin’ Al was a man who wanted very much to be liked, even loved, by those around him. He wanted not just their respect but also their affection. Now, in April, on the eve of the great adventure, Smilin’ Al was more jovial and convivial than ever. He did his José Jiménez routine. His great grin spread wider and his great beer-call eyes beamed brighter than ever before. Smilin’ Al was crazy about a comedy routine that had been developed by a comedian named Bill Dana. It concerned the Cowardly Astronaut and was a great hit. Dana portrayed the Cowardly Astronaut as a stupid immigrant Mexican named José Jiménez, whose tongue wrapped around the English language like a taco. The idea was to interview Astronaut Jiménez like a news broadcaster. You’d say things like: “What has been the most difficult part of astronaut training, José?” “Obtaining de maw-ney, señor.” “The money? What for?” “For de bus back to Mejico, you betcha, reel queeck, señor.” “I see. Well, now, José, what do you plan to do once you’re in space?” “Gonna cry a lot, I theeeenk.” Smilin’ Al used to crack up over this routine. He liked to do the José Jiménez part; and if he could get someone to feed him the straight lines, he was in Seventh Heaven, Smilin’ Al version. Feed him the lines for his José Jiménez knock-off, and he’d treat you like the best beer-call good buddy you ever had. Of course, the Cowardly Astronaut routine was also a perfectly acceptable way for bringing up, on the oblique, as it were, the subject of the righteous stuff that the first flight into space would require. But that was probably unconscious on Al’s part. The main thing seemed to be the good fun, the camaraderie, the closeness and blustery affection of the squadron on the eve of battle. In these moments you saw Smilin’ Al supreme. And in the next moment— —some poor Air Force lieutenant, thinking this was the same Smilin’ Al he had been joking and carrying on with last night, would sing out, “Hey, Al! Somebody wants you on the phone!”—and all at once there would be Al, seething with an icy white fury, hissing out: “If you have something to tell me, Lieutenant … you will call me ‘Sir’!” And the poor devil wouldn’t know what hit him. Where the hell did that freaking arctic avalanche come from? And then he would realize that … all at once the Icy Commander was back in town.

Braw’s book highlights four specific “pastor agents” and the recruiting work of a Stasi official named Joachim Wiegand (still living and interviewed by Braw), who headed up the Stasi’s so-called “Church Department,” formally known as Department XX/4. These pastor agents, states Braw, were “very active,” engaging in regular clandestine meetings with Stasi contacts and “extensive cooperation over many years,” agreeing to “spy on their fellow human beings,” including their own congregants. They had varying motivations. Some did it for the money—a “depressingly” small sum, notes Braw. Others cooperated because they felt they were helping causes like “peace” by curtailing “anti-militarism” in post-war Germany. Regardless, notes Braw, these pastors “betrayed and sold out their friends and acquaintances.

Is this the only question you bring to me, is this the only power that obsesses you, so that you must make us gods and devils yourself when the only power that exists is inside ourselves?

Lee Tran & Liang tried to have Quinn Emmanuel thrown off the case, as Reggie had tried to get another Quinn Emmanuel lawyer to take his side of the case before he went to Lee Tran & Liang. Ultimately, the judge ruled against Reggie and said the waiver Reggie had signed and the ethical wall Quinn Emmanuel erected were sufficient for them to continue representing Evan, Bobby, and Snapchat. Lee Tran & Liang also tried to sue all of Snapchat’s investors, claiming their shares were diluting Reggie’s one-third stake. They even lined up a tell-all interview for Reggie with GQ magazine, but he backed out at the last minute. At one point, Lee’s partner Luan Tran took a copy of Forbes magazine with Evan on the cover, scrawled red devil horns over his head, and pinned it to the wall in his office. The combative trial would wage for months, and each side had plenty more cards to play. Reggie claimed he owned one-third of Snapchat’s intellectual property since he filed the original patent (which, again, was never approved). He also claimed that they had entered into an oral partnership agreement when he and Evan initially agreed to split everything 50/ 50 (before they brought Bobby in). Evan and Bobby claimed Reggie was merely working with them on a project, and they never agreed to an equity split; because they used the Limited Liability Company (LLC) structure that Evan and Bobby had set up for Future Freshman rather than a whole new one, they claimed Reggie should know he had no equity in the venture.

Don Simpson was right about Robert Altman. Screenwriter, Ring Lardner wrote M*A*S*H (1970) and director Altman praised his script in early interviews. After the movie was a hit, Altman said that he had tossed out Lardner’s script and written it himself. The movie’s producer, George Litto, said, “Bob was never one to acknowledge a writer’s contribution. The movie was ninety percent Ring Lardner’s script, but Bob started saying he improvised the movie. I said,* ‘Bob, Ring Lardner gave you the best opportunity you had in your whole life. Ring was blacklisted for years. What you’re doing is very unfair to him and you ought to stop it.’

p.360 - Suffit-il de manquer la messe un dimanche, ou de mâcher l'hostie de la communion, de voler une miche de pain, ou de séduire la femme de son voisin ? - Non, ai-je répondu en secouant la tête, non. - -- Mais s'il n'y a pas d'hierarchie dans le mal, alors un seul péché suffit. C'est bien ce que vous dites, non ? Que Dieu existe, et... - je ne sais pas si Dieu existe. Et pour ceux que j'en ai vus, je dirais qu'il n'existe pas. - Alors, aucun péché n'a d'importance, aucun péché ne peut mener au mal. - C'est faux. Car si Dieu n'existe pas, cela signifie que nous sommes les créatures les plus douées de conscience de tout l'univers. Nous seuls comprenons le passage du temps et la valeur de chaque minute d'une vie humaine. Et le mal, le mal véritable, s'est doté d'une seule vie humaine. Qu'un homme meure demain, après-demain, ou plus tard encore, cela ne change rien. Car si Dieu n'existe pas, alors cette vie, la moindre des secondes qui la compose, représente tout ce que nous possédons.

Et j'ai pensé à tout ce qui m'attendait à travers le monde et les âges, puis je me suis décidée à explorer ce monde avec minutie et révérence, apprenant de chaque chose le moyen de mieux apprécier le suivant.

God and the Devil were embodiments of fundamental principles that shape the universe. They provided a framework for humans to understand the complexities of existence. However, the ultimate goal was for humanity to recognize the limitations of these dualistic constructs and to seek a higher understanding of the Universe.

Stranger still Cardinal Castrillón Hoyos has made the same admission. In the aforementioned interview in 30 Days he said: "The emergency of our time is to show people that the Church of today is the same as the Church has always been." But why is there such an "emergency" in the first place? When in the entire history of the Catholic Church did it ever have to be demonstrated that the Church was still the same as before? Why would such a demonstration even be necessary if there were not a very good reason to suspect that the Church has been changed? There is indeed good reason to suspect this, as we have shown: Since Vatican II the Catholic Church has undergone and Adaptation precisely along the lines predicted, plotted, and carried out by Her worst enemies. And those in charge of the Catholic Church today refuse to recognize what has happened, even if they are not conscious agents of destruction themselves . . . They blindly and stubbornly defend the Adaptation of the Catholic Church as if it were a dogma of the Faith, while the real dogmas of the Faith are being undermined throughout the Church before their very eyes, while they do nothing.

His mother was not a woman of faith but a charlatan masking her hypocrisy.

Faith that is never questioned, never examined, can become dangerous.

I've been a rebel always," I said. "You've been the slave of everything that ever claimed you.

On the first day of their investigation, the troopers interviewed Stephen’s family. They learned that their victim had been leading an increasingly complicated life, taking nursing classes at a community college and frequently driving to Hilton Head to meet men he’d met on Craigslist. Sandy Smith didn’t flinch from the subject.

This is a work of nonfiction, based on interviews conducted over several years with more than two hundred sources. Most sources spoke on the record, though some agreed to share information only on background. This held especially true for sources closest to the Murdaughs, given the sensitive nature of the case and the enduring influence of the family.

Randolph worked closely with every officer in the circuit. He was the lone prosecutor but effectively the chief detective, too, showing up at murder scenes and interviewing rape victims. Evidence gathering was rudimentary. Fingerprinting did not exist, leaving the solicitor to assess credibility and vet alibis.

All right, listen to me!" I hissed. I could control this no longer. "We are going out. But we shall do it like proper vampires, do you hear! There are one thousand people in the church and we are going to scare them to death.