Satan's Affair Quotes

Many phenomena - wars, plagues, sudden audits - have been advanced as evidence for the hidden hand of Satan in the affairs of Man, but whenever students of demonology get together the M25 London orbital motorway is generally agreed to be among the top contenders for exhibit A.

I’m not crazy!” I screech. I take a deep, calming breath and arrange the smile back on my face. “I’m just passionate.

You can’t hide from fate. That’s the funny thing about destiny, even if you try to escape it, it will always find you.

How can you tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing, just because you can’t see it, too? Why do the shortsighted people get to claim what is and isn’t sane?

Crazy people are the most interesting people in the world if you’d just let them be who they are. Medicating and drugging people until they’re mindless zombies would make anyone depressed, you dumb bitch.

You’re an interesting person, Sibby. But I’m going to need you to calm the fuck down. I can’t interrogate in peace when you’re over there stabbing someone like a cracked-out banshee, you feel me?

He looks at me like I’m insane. That hurts my feelings.

Flowers can’t survive in a place like this.

You’re not normal?” I ask, my curiosity piquing. “The interesting people never are, demon slayer.

But you can’t silence heartbreak. It’s loud and painful. Even after you grieve and heal, it lingers in the background, sliding back into your life just when you think you’ve overcome it.

Just like Lucifer with Eve. She didn’t eat an apple. Lucifer fucked her and ruined her for all men. And then tossed her aside because she could never be Lilith.

The outsiders—people that think they’re normal—they don’t understand people like us. We see the world for what it is. This Earth is layered, just like an onion, and we’re only living in one of those layers.

Who says you have to choose? Kill them all, Sibby.

One.” Stab. A grunt punctuates my next word, “Two.” Stab. Another grunt. “Freddy’s coming for you,” I sing, high-pitched and child-like. Blood spurts from his stab wounds,

He’s not God’s disciple. He’s Lucifer’s little bitch.

Maybe people with dark souls aren’t all bad. Just because they’re dark, that doesn’t mean they’re not redeemable. That doesn’t mean there isn’t good in there.

Mortis always says I have the smile of an angel. Demons love angels. They always want what they can never have. They love to taint what’s pure.

Funny how something so painful will heal and disappear like it didn’t nearly bring me to my knees.

My hand trembles with the need to curl a knife in my fist and plunge it deep into someone’s throat. I long to hear the gurgling as they choke on their blood. Their dull eyes, wide with fear. I can almost see their lives flashing in their dilated irises.

There’s no redemption for people like Gary. They never learn their lesson. They get a slap on the wrist and then go on with their lives, torturing women for the sake of inflating their self-worth. Truth is, they don’t have any worth, and they know that.

Sit on my fucking cock, Sibby. Now.

I have the feeling he’s going to call the rest of my henchmen in soon to try and relax me. They know when they gang up on me, all their cocks surrounding me—I can’t resist.

Crazy people are the most interesting people in the world if you’d just let them be who they are.

Old men that have so much money, they’ve grown bored with life. There’s nothing that excites them anymore. Nothing, except little helpless girls and boys, and their cries of pain.

MANY PHENOMENA—wars, plagues, sudden audits—have been advanced as evidence for the hidden hand of Satan in the affairs of Man, but whenever students of demonology get together the M25 London orbital motorway is generally agreed to be among the top contenders for Exhibit A.

It’s always my favorite part when they think they have a chance of escape. To see the hope slowly fade out of their eyes when they realize there’s no chance of them getting past my henchmen.

Satan’s Affair is a traveling fair that comes to town every year, staying for two nights before moving on to the next town. They set up loads of haunted houses and thrill rides. Daya and I go every year religiously.

You're so fucking tight," Baine murmurs, his words dipped in sin. "Covered in blood, looking like a fucking goddess of death." "She tastes so good too," Timothy sighs around my center, nearly grinding his lips against me.

She must be fooled by the bad boy persona. Maybe she has a sad homelife, restricted from doing things that make her happy, so she’s trying to find life and a thrill in someone dangerous. If only it means she feels a little less dead inside.

There’s no way she has rose-colored glasses on with him. She has dark, black sunshades on.

I'm not crazy!' I screech. I take a deep, calming breath and arrange the smile back on my face. 'I'm just passionate.

When you carry a demon in your soul, it rots you from the inside out.

How do you know when the obstacles in your path have been placed by God to protect you, or by Satan to hinder God's purposes in your affairs?

MANY PHENOMENA--wars, plagues, sudden audits--have been advanced as evidence for the hidden hand of Satan in the affairs of Man.

Normal? What does normal even mean? Normal is subjective.

In another life, he’d fit right in with my henchmen. He’s beautiful and terrifying all in the same breath, inhaling terror and exhaling a haunting beauty.

a mannequin of a woman sits here, rocking her decapitated baby while singing a haunting lullaby.

Sometimes, when I’m really bored, I’ll cut the skin from whatever demon I’ve cast judgement on and use their skin as a dress.

Slicing through skin and meat is easy, it’s when you get to the bone that it gets a little hard.

This is why I’m here. This is my purpose. To protect my garden of flowers from wilting because of people like Gary and Daddy.

I rip the knife from his head and start stabbing frantically, the feeling of my pretty knife cutting through flesh and bone is making my clit pulse.

Behind him is the murderous girl who lurked behind the walls in Satan’s Affair. Sibel.

God help the souls that will feel my wrath.

Must’ve hit a lung. Whoopsie.

I time it exactly right, swiping out my hand so the tip of the blade glides across his eye. The cornea of his eye rips away from the pupil, the thin piece dangling on the tip of my knife.

There was nowhere to appeal to. There was no appeals jurisdiction above it, and no jurisdiction beneath it. It was subordinate only to the Minister of Internal Affairs, to Stalin, and to Satan.

I want to feel blood soaking into my flesh, feel my knife cutting through sinew and muscle and tearing apart delicate skin. But I can’t just kill anyone. I refuse to kill innocents. I’m not an evil person.

Learning pressure points is the only thing I can thank Daddy for. He had a weird fascination with being able to debilitate or even kill someone with a single jab of his finger. All that power to ruin or end someone’s life in one small movement.

wars, plagues, sudden audits – have been advanced as evidence for the hidden hand of Satan in the affairs of Man, but whenever students of demonology get together the M25 London orbital motorway is generally agreed to be among the top contenders for Exhibit A.

Many phenomena – wars, plagues, sudden audits – have been advanced as evidence for the hidden hand of Satan in the affairs of Man, but whenever students of demonology get together the M25 London orbital motorway is generally agreed to be among the top contenders for Exhibit A.

Baudelaire" When I fall asleep, and even during sleep, I hear, quite distinctly, voices speaking Whole phrases, commonplace and trivial, Having no relation to my affairs. Dear Mother, is any time left to us In which to be happy? My debts are immense. My bank account is subject to the court’s judgment. I know nothing. I cannot know anything. I have lost the ability to make an effort. But now as before my love for you increases. You are always armed to stone me, always: It is true. It dates from childhood. For the first time in my long life I am almost happy. The book, almost finished, Almost seems good. It will endure, a monument To my obsessions, my hatred, my disgust. Debts and inquietude persist and weaken me. Satan glides before me, saying sweetly: “Rest for a day! You can rest and play today. Tonight you will work.” When night comes, My mind, terrified by the arrears, Bored by sadness, paralyzed by impotence, Promises: “Tomorrow: I will tomorrow.” Tomorrow the same comedy enacts itself With the same resolution, the same weakness. I am sick of this life of furnished rooms. I am sick of having colds and headaches: You know my strange life. Every day brings Its quota of wrath. You little know A poet’s life, dear Mother: I must write poems, The most fatiguing of occupations. I am sad this morning. Do not reproach me. I write from a café near the post office, Amid the click of billiard balls, the clatter of dishes, The pounding of my heart. I have been asked to write “A History of Caricature.” I have been asked to write “A History of Sculpture.” Shall I write a history Of the caricatures of the sculptures of you in my heart? Although it costs you countless agony, Although you cannot believe it necessary, And doubt that the sum is accurate, Please send me money enough for at least three weeks.

I’ll never know the exact moment she took her last breath. I’ll never know why she chose to kill herself rather than running away with me. Or why death was more appealing than a life with me. But what hurt most is knowing that I spent the entire night staring at my mother’s dead body and never even realized it.

SATANIC SEX Satanism does advocate sexual freedom, but on the the true sense of the word. Free love, in the Satanic concept, means exactly that - freedom to either be faithful to one person or to indulge your sexual desires with as many others as you feel is necessary to satisfy your particular needs. Satanism does not encourage orgiastic activity or extramarital affairs for those whom they do not come naturally. For many, it would be very unnatural and detrimental to be unfaithful to their chosen mates. To others, it would be frustrating to be bound sexually to just one person. Each person must decide for himself what form of sexual activity best suits his individual needs. Self-deceitfully forcing yourself to be adulterous or to have sex partners when not married just for the sake of proving to others (or worse yet, to yourself) that you are emancipated from sexual guilt is just as wrong, by Satanic standard, as leaving any sexual need unfulfilled because of ingrained feelings of guilt. Many of those who are constantly preoccupied with demonstrating their emancipations from sexual guilt are, in reality, held in even greater sexual bondage than those who simply accept sexual activity as a natural part of life and don't make a big to-do over their sexual freedom.

Over at one side of the room, seated behind a small nondescript table beneath a small lamp, was a neat, black-haired major. Patient boredom was what his face chiefly revealed ... He asked my name ... Leafing through the pile on the right, the major found the paper which referred to me. He pulled it out and read it aloud to me in a bored patter. I understood I had been sentenced to eight years ... Could this really be my sentence - the turning point in my life? I would have liked to feel nervous, to experience this moment to the full, but I just couldn't ... The major had already pushed the sheet over to me, blank side facing up. 'No, I have to read it myself.' 'Do you really think I would deceive you?' the major objected lazily. Was I really just supposed to sign and leave in silence? ... He had already nodded to the jailer at the door to get the next prisoner ready ... 'Right there.' The major showed me once again where to sign. I signed. I could simply not think of anything else to do. 'In that case, allow me to write an appeal right here. After all, the sentence is unjust.' ... There was nowhere to appeal to. There was no appeals jurisdiction above it, and no jurisdiction beneath it. It was subordinate only to the Minister of Internal Affairs, to Stalin, and to Satan.

After the dedication, Eleanor saw Bernard privately, probably at her own request. He came prepared to offer more spiritual comfort, thinking that she too might be suffering qualms of conscience over Vitry, but he was surprised to learn that she was not. Nevertheless, several matters were indeed troubling her, not the least the problems of her sister. She asked him to use his influence with the Pope to have the excommunication on Raoul and Petronilla lifted and their marriage recognised by the Church. In return, she would persuade Louis to make peace with Theobald of Champagne and recognise Pierre de la Chatre as Archbishop of Bourges. Bernard was appalled at her brazen candour. In his opinion, these affairs were no business of a twenty-two-year-old woman. He was, in fact, terrified of women and their possible effects on him. An adolescent, first experiencing physical desire for a young girl, he had been so filled with self-disgust that he had jumped into a freezing cold pond & remained there until his erection subsided. He strongly disapproved of his sister, who had married a rich man; because she enjoyed her wealth, he thought of her as a whore, spawned by Satan to lure her husband from the paths of righteousness, and refused to have anything to do with her. Nor would he allow his monks any contact with their female relatives. Now there stood before him the young, worldly, and disturbingly beautiful Queen of France, intent upon meddling in matters that were not her concern. Bernard's worst suspicions were confirmed: here, beyond doubt, was the source of that "Counsel of the Devil" that had urged the King on to disaster and plunged him into sin and guilt. His immediate reaction was to admonish Eleanor severely.

Even the asexual has a deviation - his asexuality. It is far more abnormal to have a lack of desire (unless illness or oldage, or another valid reason has caused the wane) than it is to be sexually promiscuous. However, if a Satanist choose sexual sublimation above overt sexual expression, that is entirely his own affair. In many cases of sexual sublimation (or asexuality), any attempt to emancipate himself sexually would prove devastating to the asexual. Asexuals are invariably sexually sublimated by their jobs or hobbies. All the energy and driving interest which would normally be devoted to sexual activity, is channeled into other pastimes or into their chosen occupations. If a person favors other interests over sexual activity, it is his right, and no one is justified in condemning him for it. However, the person should at least recognize the fat this is a sexual sublimation. Because of lack of opportunity for expression, many secret sexual desires never progress beyond the fantasy stage. lack of release often leads to compulsion and, therefore, a great number of people devise undetectable methods of giving vent to their urges. Just because most fetishistic activity is not outwardly apparent, the sexually unsophisticated should not delude himself into think it does not exist.

Hi again ! My fav quote from "Kisses from Katie " By Katie J Davis frm page 174 As an 8 year old ,when I first started hearing Céline Dion’s songs, I did not realize that she was almost always singing about someone she is sooooo desperately in love with ! She has such longing and such agony as she is away from her lover .But now a I feel so much longing for my boyfriend whom Im losing .I see a lesson in this : I think the way Celine Dion feels about her lover is the way God must feel about the church ,which in some ways seems to have strayed so far from Him . I think God allowed me to REALLY MISS my boyfriend so I could catch a tiny glimpse of what God’s heart must feel as the church strays into religion and away from things that are so important to Him like helping the impoverished, unwanted people of the world . He longs and desires for my heart to come back to Him each and every minute of each and every day . God so deeply ,passionately , desperately loves us . He intensely longs for his lover to come back to his teachings of giving all we a have to Him ,our beloved , who lives in the hearts of the suffering poor people of this world and unite as a community in an effort to serve HIM in Them and I am so awed by his love for me .I feel so precious and dear to him that He is singing to me even more longingly and passionately than Celine Dion sings to her lover. That is pretty WONDERFUL !!! Satan is not a fan of God our love affair with God and so Satan is battling every day to keep us from giving our hearts to God. I am becoming more keenly aware than ever before of this battle between God and Satan to claim my heart . The devil tricks us into giving our hearts to materialistically selfish desires: wanting more and more for ourselves so we forget Love for God and our neighbor. So that we trade our noble inheritance : the precious treasure of LOVE God wants to shower on us which no money or processions can buy for more ME ME ME . No where in the bible does it say I deserve a reward (boy friend and material abundance ) here on this earth but it does say that I will have a joy so great that it is greater than all good things of this world combined . Colossians 3:23 says “Whatever work you do do it with all your heart (it does not say “and after this work you deserve a long hot bath and some me time “ it does say “Serve with all your heart since you KNOW that you will receive an in heritance in heaven from the Lord as a reward “ …And we KNOW in our hearts that God is ALL we need to overflow with joy …. (Matthew 19-21 says Do not lay up for your selves treasures in this world where moth and rust doth corrupt …..but lay up for yourselves treasure (Love for God )which will be yours for eternity “ Bless you , Dari

J'attends avec impatience le jour où les chercheurs se rendront compte que, dans les mythes, ils ont affaire aux mêmes thèmes que dans la chasse aux sorcières, structurés de la même façon et faussement perçus comme indéchiffrables.

Although Saudi authorities promised after the September 11 attacks to revise textbooks that taught hatred against Jews and Christians, as late as 2006 Saudi texts still referred to Jews as “apes” and Christians as “swine.”27 And in April 2008 a British employment tribunal awarded 70,000 pounds ($115,000) to a teacher who had been fired from a Saudi-funded Islamic school for exposing that the school’s textbooks spoke of “the repugnant characteristics of the Jews” and asserted, “Those whom God has cursed and with whom he is angry, he has turned into monkeys and pigs. They worship Satan.”28 There is an endless parade of similar examples. In March 2004 Sheikh Ibrahim Mudayris, speaking on official Palestinian Authority television, railed against “the Jews today taking revenge for their grandfathers and ancestors, the sons of apes and pigs.”29 And during the swine flu scare in May 2009, Sheikh Ahmad ‘Ali ‘Othman, the superintendent of da’wa [Islamic proselytizing] affairs at the Egyptian Ministry of Religious Endowments, declared that “all pigs are descended from the Jews whom Allah transformed into apes, swine and worshippers of Satan, and must therefore be slaughtered.” Othman based his argument on Koran 5:60, one of the Koran’s notorious “apes and pigs” passages.30 In his televised sermon denouncing the Jews regardless of their actions in Israel or elsewhere, Muhammad Hussein Ya’qoub also invoked this theme: “As for you Jews—the curse of Allah upon you. The curse of Allah upon you, whose ancestors were apes and pigs. . . . Allah, we pray that you transform them again, and make the Muslims rejoice again in seeing them as apes and pigs. You pigs of the earth! You pigs of the earth! You kill the Muslims with that cold pig [blood] of yours.”31 Jews as apes and pigs: it’s in the Koran, holy book of the religion of peace.

what hurt most is knowing that I spent the entire night staring at my mother’s dead body and never even realized it.

Her roses would’ve wilted and crumbled from the tar he surely would’ve spread on her petals.

Sibel. We found your henchmen.” Whiplash. She's jerking me back and forth. I can’t keep up. “Okay, and?” I snap. “Have they been apprehended?” Her lips tighten into a thin line. “Sibel,” she starts again. “They’re mannequins.

He doesn’t smell rotten, but he smells of fire and brimstone and something… sweet. Like… like burnt roses.

Demons love angels. They always want what they can never have. They love to taint what’s pure. Like picking up a white bunny with hands covered in blood. Angels are used and discarded to the side when they’ve served their purpose.

I'm not crazy!" I screech. I take a deep, calming breath and arrange the smile back on my face. "I'm just passionate.

He's not God's disciple. He's Lucifer's little bitch.

But you can't silence heartbreak. It's loud and painful. Even after you grieve and heal, it lingers in the background, sliding back into your life just when you think you've overcome it.

I do this all the time." With that, he side-eyes me. "You kill people often?" I shrug. "Only the demons.

If you lie, your death will be slow. My demon slayer and I have plenty of ideas on how to make it the most painful last hours of your miserable life.

They say it's all in our head. But I think they're suppressed. The things we see-they're not in our heads. They're in our faces. In our lives. And sometimes, in our bodies. They just can't see them.

Fucking crazy ass bitch!" he screams from somewhere in the house. I frown, hurt and angry by his words. "I'm not crazy!" I screech. I take a deep, calming breath and arrange the smile back on my face. "I'm just passionate.

Make another noise, and I'll tell the boys to not reward you with their cocks for a week, got it?

Good girl.

Good job, baby girl.

I'll never get used to the feeling of two dicks inside one hole—it feels too fucking good.

I wanna feel this pussy drenching me with your cum.

The only thing he's doing the best he can with is getting people to ride his cock and making my life miserable.

He just doesn’t know how to love the right way. But he’ll learn one day, when he pushes his son too far away and learns to regret his actions.

No, but that’s the only thing we do that you have a chance of putting a stop to—as small as it is. The rest is deep operations within the government, a lot of it specifically to keep control over the people and make them think they have any control over what happens in their lives.

This is the closest I'll ever get to heaven while my soul is trapped in this body.

Demons love angels. They always want what they can never have. They love to taint what's pure. Like picking up a white bunny with hands covered in blood. Angels are used and discarded to the side when they've served their purpose. Just like Lucifer with Eve. She didn't eat an apple. Lucifer fucked her and ruined her for all men. And then tossed her aside because she could never be Lilith.

Come to me, little demon. I'll show you what the devil really looks like.

Maybe people with dark souls aren't all bad. Just because they're dark, that doesn't mean they're not redeemable. That doesn't mean there isn't good in there.

Maybe I'll suck his dick later to loosen him up so he leaves me the hell alone.

If you ask me, the only thing she's breaking is my control to not fucking rip her eyes from their sockets.

Doctor Aberlyn Rosie is written on a pretentious gold plaque on the door. I want my pretty knife so I can carve the word Bitch into the plaque alongside her name. Only then, would I be able to stand to look at it.

I wanted to pluck her pen from her breast pocket and shove it in her throat for saying that.

Medicating and drugging people until they're mindless zombies would make anyone depressed, you dumb bitch.

Don't fuck without being married, but oh no, if you don't suck on my cock, you're the unholy one.

I wonder, is she one of those girls who write their feelings in journals? Does she take a pen to paper every time she's called a bitch by a patient? Does she talk about how unappreciated she is in her job, but if she could help just one person, it would all be worth it?

You think people wouldn't have noticed me carrying around mannequins and fucking them?

my purpose in life. If I can just extinguish all the evil, then I can finally live in a pure world with my flower garden of people.

I’d want to be a spider. I’d love for my house to symbolize them one year so I can dress up as a spider queen and sink my teeth into a sinner’s throat.

dollhouse.

They never fought Daddy like I did. They didn’t disobey him when his punishment always resulted in scars.

It gives me time to myself, to relax and focus on all the ways I’m going to fuck my henchmen in the demon’s blood that dare enter my house.

Or why death was more appealing than a life with me.

Angels are used and discarded to the side when they’ve served their purpose. Just like Lucifer with Eve. She didn’t eat an apple. Lucifer fucked her and ruined her for all men. And then tossed her aside because she could never be Lilith.

I’m going to kill you, monster.

I let out a squeal of excitement and start slashing. Painting myself in the blood of sinners.