Satan's Diary Quotes

This morning I delivered little baby Sayton – pronounced Satan, as in King of the Underworld.

Satan is too hard a master. He would never command as did the Other with divine simplicity: 'Do likewise.' The devil will have no victims resemble him. He permits only a rough caricature, impotent, abject, which has to serve as food for eternal irony, the mordant irony of the depths.

I do not want to lie so rudely and ungracefully. I will lie to you elsewhere, when you least expect it, and that will be far more interesting for both of us.

Once, in the South Atlantic, I saw a whaler in the process of killing a female accompanied by one of her offspring. The harpooner, a red-bearded Irishman, kept putting harpoons into the whale. The intestines were hanging out of the mangled body of the huge animal, and nevertheless it continued to swim back and forth in the water made red by its blood, trying with its shattered body to shield the little whale. Since then, and the sight of that harpooner's freckled face as he laughed derisively, and of that poor creature, faithful to the end, I have believed in the existence of Satan as I believe in the existence of God.

Мудрость слов нужна нищим духом, богатые же - безмолвны.

Bu tarihte akılsızlık ve kan, zorbalık ve yalan görüyorum, sürekli çiğnedikleri yeminlerini duyuyor, Tanrı'ya dua ederken ağızlarından çıkan her insaf ve merhamet yakarışında, üzerlerine bastıkları toprağı nasıl aşağıladıklarını dinliyorum.

I don’t believe in Devil or Satan (that is mainly Cristian), I believe in people that have bad character and bad energy because they created it.

Platím reportérům, aby o Mně nepsali. Nejdřív jsem je jednoduše vyháněl, ale oni začali zpovídat mé koně, a tak jim teď platím za každý řádek mlčení.

Lidské šílenství je velmi nakažlivé.

Všichni kati mají velmi bílé ruce.

Každá svoboda je vlastí svobodného člověka.

Co by to bylo za velkého lháře, který by dokázal oklamat jen ostatní? Lhát se musí tak, aby tomu člověk sám uvěřil - to je umění!

For the next twenty years, adults in every corner of America would charge D&D (and its media cousins, heavy metal and horror) with destroying young lives.

If you’re afraid of ghosts or black magic, witches, or even God with Satan you are an easy target for psychopaths because those who are afraid of fake evils has a big chance to meet a real one.

Мое одиночество очень велико. Я не нуждаюсь в друзьях, но Мне надо говорить о себе, и Мне не с кем говорить. Одних мыслей недостаточно, и они не вполне ясны, отчетливы и точны, пока Я не выражу их словом: их надо выстроить в ряд, как солдат или телеграфные столбы, протянуть, как железнодорожный путь, перебросить мосты и виадуки, построить насыпи и закругления, сделать в известных местах остановки - и лишь тогда все становится ясно. Этот каторжный инженерный путь называется у них, кажется, логикой и последовательностью и обязателен для тех, кто хочет быть умным; для всех остальных он не обязателен, и они могут блуждать, как им угодно.

It’s a great shame our child-protection duties* don’t extend to vetoing some of the terrible names parents saddle their unfortunate babies with. This morning I delivered little baby Sayton—pronounced “Satan,” as in the king of the underworld. It’s hard to believe he’ll get through his school career unbullied, and yet we merrily wave him off on that journey. (Or maybe he’s actually the devil and I should have just shoved him back in.)

Одной минуты в Моем вочеловечении Я не могу вспомнить без ужаса: когда Я впервые услыхал биение Моего сердца. Этот отчетливый, громкий, отсчитывающий звук, столько же говорящий о смерти, сколько и о жизни, поразил Меня...

Jen si představ: ze tří dětí, které přivedeš na svět, se jedno stane vrahem, druhé obětí a třetí soudcem a katem. Lidé každý den zabíjejí vrahy, ale neustále se rodí další a další; každý den v sobě vrazi zabíjejí svědomí, zatímco svědomí popravuje vrahy, a všichni jsou naživu: jak vrazi, tak svědomí. V jaké mlze to žijeme!

I have hated you in every hour that has gone by, I hate you so that I would happily give my life for your death, and happily go to my own doom if only I could witness yours, take you with me into the depths. When I let this hate free, I am almost overcome by it, but I cannot change this and do not really know how it could be otherwise. Let no one deprecate this, nor fool himself about the power of such hatred. Hate drives to reality. Hate is the father of the action. The way out of our defiled and desecrated house is through the command to hate Satan. Only so will be earn the right to search in the darkness for the way of love. In our hatred, we are like bees who must pay with their lives for the use of their stingers.

One of the most distinguishing features of a revolution is the ravenous hunger for histrionics, dissembling, posturing, and puppet show. The ape has awakened in man. Oh, these dreams about death? What a huge place death occupies in our short lives! And there is nothing to say about the years: day and night we live in an orgy of death. They keep talking in the name of some “bright future” that will supposedly issue forth from this satanic gloom. There have already appeared on this earth an entire legion of specialists and contractors who seek to fashion human well-being.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only person at my school who believes Satan’s kid sister has a locker right next to mine.

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As educators, they realized that the game could teach without teaching. Basic math, spatial relations, narrative structure, predictive reasoning, and above all, human interaction. Things, in other words, that football or baseball offered, but without the physical boundaries. At the gaming table, you could be blind and missing both legs, but still lead your comrades to glory.

From the Daily Herald, November 1, 1981: Provo police have asked school officials to warn children not to accept candy or stamps from strangers. The stamps could contain glue laced with LSD. “Timpanogos, Franklin and Grandview elementary schools have reported seeing a male dressed as a clown in the vicinity of the schools,” says Provo Police Chief Swen Nielsen. “At Timpanogos, children said a clown was giving away candy and stamps.” Nielsen says in all instances, Provo police canvassed neighborhoods but could not find evidence that the clown was the same individual or if LSD-laced stamps were involved. “We’ve gotten varying descriptions of the clown,” adds Nielsen. “There’s no doubt a clown has been in the area of elementary schools. But whether it is the same clown, or if he is doing anything illegal, is still a question.

In all reported cases, the clown turned out to be “Cinderbritches,” the local fire department’s mascot, who—accompanied by a uniformed firefighter—visited schools to warn kids about the dangers of fires.

For Latter-day Saints, the problem was definitional. What exactly was witchcraft? Joseph Smith, who’d founded the Church, had communed with spirits, told fortunes, and used magic rocks called “seer stones” to decipher mystical writing. Was that witchcraft? If not, why not?

We project our own paranoia onto the young. They are the dark and confused result of what we have failed to be. —Art Linkletter, Drugs at My Doorstep, 1973

This was part of the Church’s “Indian Placement Program,” in which teenagers from regional tribes lived with Mormon families, ostensibly for the chance to attend non-reservation schools. The catch: participants had to be baptized into the Mormon faith. The program ended in the mid-1990s.

We project our own paranoia onto the young. They are the dark and confused result of what we have failed to be.

You can’t reason with a herd. If you try, it only squeals louder.

Why,” Jill asked. “What's in it for them?” “The Society for Human Enlightenment believes if they can get enough people going to Hell, God will blink,” Allison replied. “What?” “Like in a stare down,” Allison explained, “you know, who ever blinks first loses.” “Their goal is to have so many people go to Hell that God will give in. The idea is if God forgives everyone who didn’t accept Christ, then He has to forgive Satan as well,” Guzetti said. “Can that happened? Could Satan win somehow?” “No, it can’t happen. Satan should know this as well, but he doesn’t, not anymore. Remember, no matter how wise someone is, when the presence of God is withdrawn from them, they deteriorate. That’s what’s happening to Satan, his mind is going. Satan's plan can’t work, but he and The Society don’t know that. What’s in it for them? Power. Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven.

LINKLETTER: Another big difference between alcohol and marijuana is that when people smoke marijuana, they smoke it to get high. When most people drink, they drink to be sociable. NIXON: A person does not drink to get drunk. LINKLETTER: That’s right. NIXON: A person drinks to have fun. This being Nixon, the conversation soon turned racist, with Linkletter in parrot mode: NIXON: Asia, the Middle East, portions of Latin America . . . I’ve seen what drugs have done to those countries. Everybody knows what it’s done to the Chinese. The Indians are hopeless anyway. The Burmese— LINKLETTER: That’s right. NIXON: Why are the Communists so hard on drugs? It’s because they love to booze. I mean, the Russians, they drink pretty good. LINKLETTER: That’s right. NIXON: The Swedes drink too much, the Finns drink too, the British have always been heavy boozers, and the Irish, of course, the most, but on the other hand, they survive as strong races. LINKLETTER: That’s right. NIXON: At least with liquor, I don’t lose motivation.

The threat of narcotics among our people is one which properly frightens many Americans. It comes quietly into homes and destroys children, it moves into neighborhoods and breaks the fiber of community which makes neighbors. We must try to better understand the confusion and disillusion and despair that bring people, particularly young people, to the use of narcotics and dangerous drugs.

Every one of the bastards that are out for legalizing marijuana is Jewish,” Nixon had railed to Haldeman a few months earlier. “What the Christ is the matter with the Jews, Bob? What is the matter with them?

Do you really believe the Church is true? Why? How do you know? Why can’t Black men join the priesthood? Why can’t women join the priesthood?

What about Jesus? He had long hair. That’s different, Alden, and you know it. Why? It just is. What about Brigham Young? He had— Alden Niel Barrett!

Whatever lay ahead, leaving Pleasant Grove would be a good start. The whole town felt like Autopia, Disneyland’s car-on-rails exhibit. You could steer left or right, but the wheels only moved a few inches, and sooner or later, everyone made the same slow turns, passed the same markers, and ended up in the same old place.

In Utah County, dating wasn’t just social. The goals were marriage and children, in that order. As a result, young Mormon life could resemble triage, with teens (or their parents) quick to discard non-marriage material.

Because unmarried Mormon adults are (in some interpretations) barred from the highest level of heaven (and thus, from reuniting with devout relatives), even nonbelievers can feel compelled to marry young. Nobody wants to ruin a dying mother’s dreams of the afterlife.

Even in Pleasant Grove, the stories floated around. . . . that stuff stays in your system forever . . . . . . in the spinal cord . . . in the fluid . . . . . . little crystals of acid, they lodge there . . . . . . seven years . . . . . . and cause flashbacks . . . Some of the whispers were specific, with the heavy ring of authority: If you’ve taken LSD more than seven times (or maybe nine?), you’re legally insane. No, it’s the number of hits in a month. Take it more than four times in one month, and you’re legally crazy. After that, they won’t even let you testify in court. It was all hogwash, but nobody rushed to correct the rumors. If the kids had a little fear, that was fine. Whatever kept them straight.

True, Alden was barely sixteen, and Teresa just a year older, but in Utah, you could marry (with parental approval) at fourteen. At Pleasant Grove High, a few students were already married, and even more were engaged. It was the same across America, with most states allowing marriage at fifteen or younger. Some, like Pennsylvania, had no minimum age; find the right judge in Pittsburgh, and you could marry a third grader.

Things felt dangerous, like an ongoing earthquake.

We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or Black,” Nixon’s domestic policy advisor, John Ehrlichman, admitted in 1994, “but by criminalizing [drugs] heavily, we could disrupt those communities . . . arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night on the evening news. “Did we know we were lying about the drugs?” asked Ehrlichman. “Of course we did.

When he wasn’t greasing the machine, Borchers was spouting noxious twaddle. In the Illinois House, he peppered his thoughts with sexual references, and once claimed that “differences in earwax” proved that whites and Blacks were “two different species.

Librarians welcomed this fight, or at least gave it due weight. They knew that book-banners were relentless. If you gave them X, they wanted Y. After Y, they came for Z. It would never stop. You had to beat them every time, or else they’d take it all.

In 2020, Pennsylvania made eighteen the minimum age for marriage.

Sexual purity is youth’s most precious possession,” official Church doctrine declared. “Better dead and clean than alive and unclean.

Even a whisper that you’d done it (or anything close to it), and your name would be dirt, forever. Hence the young marriages. Hence the high birth rate. Hence the shame and depression and keeping of secrets.

In his role as the destroyer,” says the Church, “Satan can cause illness and death, but only with permission from God. He cannot take people before their time unless they disobey God and thus forfeit their mission.

Those who needed biblical imagery stat could look to the Sahara Desert, where, for the first time in recorded history, it snowed for half an hour.

By 1971, the average American runaway was a white, middle-class, suburban girl who was barely fifteen.

It was cancer, said Marcella, and Duchess had been in a lot of pain. Pain that couldn’t be stopped. The vet had put her down. Alden listened. Duchess was dead, and he hadn’t been there for her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Was it progress or calamity? It all depended on your view, and on your vision of America.

Across America, more and more people felt a gut-level tension—a sense that the country was coming apart. The Vietnam War was finally over, and Watergate was finished, but there hadn’t been any closure. Nixon had fled to California and was living in splendor, shielded by an executive pardon. North and South Vietnam had become a single Communist power, exactly what the US had spent fifty-eight thousand lives to prevent. The dollar was falling, jobs were scarce, and inflation was nearing double digits. Overseas companies like Honda, Sony, and Volkswagen, from nations the US had bombed into powder, were surging ahead, shaping the future and setting the rules. What did Americans do with this mounting, irresolvable anger? They turned on each other, splitting down the middle over “values,” a catchall way to judge complete strangers. Gay rights, affirmative action, school prayer, pornography—everywhere you looked, the ground was shifting, and the old customs wobbled. Was it progress or calamity? It all depended on your view, and on your vision of America. By decade’s end, a violent populism had spread to the airwaves, where it postured as the voice of God. Overwhelmingly white, male, and southern, the new evangelists harnessed a growing resentment: the sense that families were under assault. “I believe this is the last generation before Jesus comes,” said the Reverend Jerry Falwell, leader of the Moral Majority political-action group. “All this homosexuality, unisex, the women’s movement, pornography on movies and television . . . I see the disintegration of the home.

Apparently we sorcerers use black notebooks as diaries, but red notebooks for transcribing spells and exorcisms.)

Both had sought psychiatric help, only to discover a paradox: in America, mental health was both undervalued and overpriced.

As the lunch hour passed, Nixon and Linkletter talked about the drug issue—two wealthy, aging white men squinting through a keyhole.

That can work, sometimes, but not because the rain ever stops. Instead, you just learn to live with less sunshine.

In New York, the CIA went the extra mile, launching its own brothel, complete with heroin-addicted prostitutes. In exchange for dosing johns with LSD (usually via tainted booze), the women got their daily fix, immunity from arrest, and a hundred bucks a night. The agents, in turn, got to watch through one-way mirrors as the hapless men went bonkers. They called it “Operation: Midnight Climax.