Spirit Pact Quotes

The secret of financial success is the willingness to adopt a warrior spirit in attitude, grace, and presence. This does not mean adopting an air of aggressiveness, but rather, a spirit of making treaties and pacts with oneself and others. “Warriors have an outlook of expecting a positive outcome, and a willingness to do whatever is needed to incur that outcome. It means not giving up, but allowing for flexibility, and to flow with the energy or chi as it moves along. Be strong, be vigilant for success, and be sensitive to the energy undercurrents, and you shan’t go wrong.

I, Johannes the bard, the sorcerer, the miscreant, hereby make a statement. Let this be my claim. "I claim only those places and spirits as far as the reach of my voice," he said. "I claim this space and only this space. I claim the connections here and only those connections." "I name this space my demesnes, a place where convention doesn't hold, beyond those conventions which I openly decide to be fair and right. I claim this alone, with no bloodline of note behind me, and no intent to mark a bloodline after me. This demesne is forfeit when I have passed from this mortal coil." He exhaled slowly. "I claim this space as mine, as I dislike that which lies elsewhere. I would return to old times, stable times, and let this place be a sanctuary, both for Others that would come here, and for myself. For I do not like where things are going elsewhere, and I would hope to change the destination... or delay it." "Let this be my challenge. All who would deny me this demesne, declare your right to challenge me, and find me here." The words were ominous, and they held power.

His shoulders sagged a fraction. “No one ever wants to make a blood pact. We could invoke ancient spirits to hold us to our vow instead. I have some necromancy books at home. But I have to hide them behind my calculus homework; otherwise, my mother finds them and throws them out.

This is my last cry, as my last blood flows. Then, O my Tyrians, besiege with hate His progeny and all his race to come: Make this your offering to my dust. No love, No pact must be between our peoples; No, But rise up from my bones, avenging spirit! Harry with fire and sword the Darden countrymen Now or hereafter, at whatever time

By 1925, most Native Alaskans had made their pact with the modern age. They still hunted, fished, and traded on occasion, but their bread and butter was in hauling supplies and carting the U.S. mail along the trails. These were skills handed down to them by their parents and their grandparents. If the serum could rescue Nome from the ravages of an ancient plague, then its safe arrival by dogsled would be a testament to the hard-learned survival skills and spirit of the Athabaskans and Eskimos.

the radical act of hospitality can open and liberate those who have found safe haven at the center, whether they are European-American, economically comfortable, straight, middle-aged, or otherwise privileged. Most of us have moments when we are at the center, even if we identify culturally with marginalized groups. And those who receive power usually have to make a pact with the systems that secure our power, to cut off part of ourselves, to silence the voice that cries out for justice and relationship, in order to survive and be successful.

And two reasons explain why the Soviet Union could not have won that victory and why, moreover, it did not really seek it. The first is related to its early collusion with the enemy. How can you be awarded the trophy for anti-Nazism when you began by sealing a pact with Hitler? When you believed so strongly in this pact that you refused to recognize its annulment until the very last minute? And when neither the war that eventually erupted, nor the horrifying bloodbath that it inflicted on your people, nor the fight to the death of two rival titans, Hitler and Stalin, cannot suppress the feeling of an unspoken but irrevocable complicity between the proletarian spirit of Moscow and the “proletaryan” spirit of Berlin?

A government has the duty to preserve the order as well as the truth which it represents; when a Gnostic leader appears and proclaims that God or progress, race or dialectic, has ordained him to become the existential ruler, a government is not supposed to betray its trust and to abdicate. And this rule suffers no exception for governments which operate under a democratic constitution and a bill of rights. Justice Jackson in his dissent in the Terminiello case formulated the point: the Bill of Rights is not a suicide pact. A democratic government is not supposed to become an accomplice in its own overthrow by letting Gnostic movements grow prodigiously in the shelter of a muddy interpretation of civil rights; and if through inadvertence such a movement has grown to the danger point of capturing existential representation by the famous “legality” of popular elections, a democratic government is not supposed to bow to the “will of the people” but to put down the danger by force and, if necessary, to break the letter of the constitution in order to save its spirit.

It seems to me, that if we love, we grieve. That’s the deal. That’s the pact. Grief and love are forever intertwined. Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable. There is a vastness to grief that overwhelms our minuscule selves. We are tiny, trembling clusters of atoms subsumed within grief’s awesome presence. It occupies the core of our being and extends through our fingers to the limits of the universe. Within that whirling gyre all manner of madnesses exist; ghosts and spirits and dream visitations, and everything else that we, in our anguish, will into existence. These are precious gifts that are as valid and as real as we need them to be. They are the spirit guides that lead us out of the darkness. […] Dread grief trails bright phantoms in its wake. These spirits are ideas, essentially. They are our stunned imaginations reawakening after the calamity. Like ideas, these spirits speak of possibility. Follow your ideas, because on the other side of the idea is change and growth and redemption. Create your spirits. Call to them. Will them alive. Speak to them. It is their impossible and ghostly hands that draw us back to the world from which we were jettisoned; better now and unimaginably changed. — Nick Cave, The Red Hand Files (no. 6, October 2018)

What we have so often preached at home about the essence of the enemy coalition has now been confirmed: it is a devilish pact between democratic capitalism and Jewish Bolshevism. All nations whose statesmen have signed this pact will sooner or later become the victims of the demonic spirits they have summoned. Let there be no doubt that National Socialist Germany will wage this fight for as long as it takes for this historic turn of events to come about here, too, and this will happen still this year. No power on earth will make us weak at heart. They have destroyed so many of our beautiful, magnificent, and sacred things that there remains only one mission in our lives: to create a state that will rebuild what they have destroyed. Therefore, it is our duty to preserve the freedom of the German nation for the future and not allow German manpower to be abducted to Siberia, but to deploy it for the rebuilding and dedicate it to the service of our own Volk. They have taught us so many horrible things that there is no more horror for us. What the homeland must endure is dreadful, what the front must accomplish is superhuman. Yet when, in the face of such pain, a whole nation proves itself as reliable as the German Volk, then Providence cannot and will not deny its right to live in the end. As always in history, it will reward its steadfastness with the prize of earthly existence. Since so many of our possessions have been destroyed, this can only reinforce us in our fanatical determination to see our enemies a thousand times over as what they truly are: destroyers of an eternal civilization and annihilators of mankind! And out of this hatred will grow a sacred will: to oppose these annihilators of our existence with all the strength God has given us and defeat them in the end. Adolf Hitler - proclamation to the German Folk Fuhrer Headquarters, February 24, 1945

Look after your own skin.! Whether they are family or friends, manipulators are difficult to escape from if u get blinded by their Love. Give in to their demands and they will be happy enough, but if you develop a spine and start saying no, it will inevitably bring a fresh round of head games and emotional blackmail. U will notice that breaking free from someone else’s dominance will often result in them accusing you of being selfish. Yes, you r selfish, because you hv stopped doing what they want you to do for them. You must always be 10 steps ahead to survive. Powerless people use various tactics, such as getting upset, withdrawing, nagging, ridiculing, pouting, crying, or getting angry, to pressure, manipulate, and punish one another into keeping this pact. However, this ongoing power play does nothing to make them happy and mitigate their anxiety in the long term. In fact, their anxiety only escalates by continually affirming that they are not actually powerful. Any sense of love and safety they feel by gaining or surrendering control is tenuous and fleeting. A relational bond built on mutual control simply cannot produce anything remotely like safety, love, or trust. It can only produce more fear, pain, distrust, punishment, and misery. And when taken to an extreme, it produces things like domestic violence.

How many times had I come and gone through the dreaded gateway? How many times had I been born and died young? And how often to the same parents? I had no idea. So much of the dust of living was in me. But this time, somewhere in the interspace between the spirit world and the Living, I chose to stay. This meant breaking my pact and outwitting my companions. It wasn’t because of the sacrifices, the burnt offerings of oils and yams and palm-nuts, or the blandishments, the short-lived promises of special treatment, or even because of the grief I had caused. It wasn’t because of my horror of recognition either. Apart from a mark on my palm I had managed to avoid being discovered. It may simply have been that I had grown tired of coming and going. It is terrible to forever remain in-between. It may also have been that I wanted to taste of this world, to feel it, suffer it, know it, to love it, to make a valuable contribution to it, and to have that sublime mood of eternity in me as I live the life to come. But I sometimes think it was a face that made me want to stay. I wanted to make happy the bruised face of the woman who would become my mother.

The analysis of revolution and the spectre of communism by Marx offers plenty of analogies with the current situation. He too made the proletariat the historic agent of the end of capital - its evil spirit, so to speak, since, with the rise of the proletariat, capital fomented the Internal virus of its own destruction. There is, however, a radical difference between the spectre of communism and that of terrorism. For capital's great trick was to transform the agent of disintegration it carried within it into a visible enemy, a class adversary, and thus, beyond economic exploitation, to change this historic movement into a dynamic of reintegration leading to a more advanced stage of capital. Terrorism operates at a higher level of radicalism: it is not a subject of history; it is an elusive enemy. And if the class struggle generated historical events, terrorism generates another type of event. Global power (which is no longer quite the same as capital) finds itself here in direct confrontation with itself. It is now left to deal not with the spectre of communism, but with its own spectre. The end of revolutions (and of history in general) is not, then, in any sense a victory for global power. It might rather be said to be a fateful sign for it.

For most of my life I have wondered where souls dwell. Over and over, I have asked, ‘Where is the other side? Where is the in-between?’ What if some or many disincarnates are stuck between here and there and where is ‘there’? I have come to a conclusion and the answer is simple: just beyond the speed of light. I believe this is where souls dwell. It is past our human senses, of sight or sound, but for those of us with the ability to tune in or to connect, it is as real as it gets. We can then vibrate and resonate with them. There is no legitimate separation between science and spirit. We cannot separate science from soul. Each originates with a Creator and is therefore eternally, inextricably linked. The souls of spirits who dwell on the other side or the in-between state of being need and want to be acknowledged, to be understood by mortals as much as we need and want to acknowledge them; to comprehend their existence, so to illuminate our own. I have made a promise, a pact to do whatever possible to keep in touch with two souls who have passed before me. Most contact occurs in dream state. Some happens by synchronicity; synergy during waking hours. When more of us make an effort to remain connected to those who pass on to the other side, perhaps the understanding we gain will cause our fear of them to dissipate; a fear of what we cannot always see or hear, but can feel to the depths of being.” Margie Mersky

I figure the only way we can make it back to the river and our lanterns is if we're a team. Maybe you'd rather be with the other guys from class, or, I don't know, maybe just by yourself—but for now—it's you and me.

To Spell A Sentence by Stewart Stafford Spell conjured and created, A magnum opus bittersweet, The sinister minister at work, His face reddened from heat. A leading light's shady grasp, Blood pacts with monstrosities, Freefalling drunk into darkness, On trade winds of pomposity. Battering ram breaches discovery, A beaming grin breaks the sweat, Dark entities screech their claim, Swept down to Hell as a new pet. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Along with the anecdotal evidence that circulated through the gossip of the street, which suggested her ends were no her own, Sylvia said that the two had a pact to die together and that Marsha would not have left without her: "Every time I look at that damn river and I sit there and meditate on the river I feel her damn spirit telling me, 'You gotta keep fighting, girlie, cause it's not time to cross the River Jordan!

Deep. Go deeper, Judge. Harder.” Judge pulled out and pushed back in with two fingers. Fucked him hard with them, just like he asked. With his other hand he pushed one of Michaels’ thighs outward so he could lick around his stretched hole. Judge buzzed as Michaels’ spirit exploded on his tongue. He firmly massaged at the tightness, using his teeth to give Michaels that hint of pain he knew he craved. “Awww. Jesus. Fuck yeah,” Michaels moaned. He pushed at Judge’s shoulders. “Wait. Let me get—” Judge stopped his licking but when Michaels turned and leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled out a drawer underneath it, Judge kept twisting and turning his fingers inside him. Michaels’ back muscles flinched and strained while he retrieved what he was looking for. He placed the bottle of lube on the mattress and a couple condoms. Judge took one and tore at the wrapper. Michaels sat up quickly and rested his hand over his, stopping him. The look in those penetrating blues stole Judge’s breath away. Go bare. Damn. He hadn’t done that since Brent. There was silent communication between them. A silent monogamous pact. Judge

The concept of a pact, particularly one with the Devil is a relative latecomer to witchcraft mythology.[23] Early examples of magical grimoires such as the Greek Magical Papyri and even the Key of Solomon both present the occultist as ‘master of spirits’, just as the tribal shaman is in traditional cultures. In fact the Greek Magical Papyri actually shows the mage extracting an oath of allegiance from the daimon, rather than the other way around! It seems to be a uniquely post-Christian idea that the witch obtained his or her power from a pact with the devil or other powerful familiar