It is profoundly tragic that I am a slave, but it is profoundly joyous that I am God's slave, not that of a devil.
Remember that the truth is in the details. No matter how you see the world or what style it imposes on your work as an artist, the truth is in the details. Of course the devil's there, too--everyone says so--but maybe truth and the devil are words for the same thing. It could be you know.
The challenge will not wait.
Life does not look back.
A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny.
No one can hit their target with their eyes closed.
Moderation? It's mediocrity, fear, and confusion in disguise. It's the devil's dilemma. It's neither doing nor not doing. It's the wobbling compromise that makes no one happy. Moderation is for the bland, the apologetic, for the fence-sitters of the world afraid to take a stand. It's for those afraid to laugh or cry, for those afraid to live or die. Moderation...is lukewarm tea, the devil's own brew.
If Hitler invaded hell, I would make at least a favourable reference to the devil in the House of Commons.
The bane of all that dread the Devil.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Refrain tonight, and that shall lend a hand of easiness to the next abstinence; the next more easy; for use can almost change the stamp of nature, and either curb the devil, or throw him out with wondrous potency.
O thou invisible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat; Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
O! while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.
Zounds! sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you.
Sometimes we are devils to ourselves When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
What! can the devil speak true? And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths; Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's In deepest consequence.
Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy: sayest thou that house is dark?
The And thus I clothe my naked villany With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
We have enslaved the rest of the animal creation, and have treated our distant cousins in fur and feathers so badly that beyond doubt, if they were able to formulate a religion, they would depict the Devil in human form.
PREDICTION If I chose Not to bear this child That in me grows, Giving in To the well-respected And learned Philosophies of men, There would be No crash of thunder At my decision; No lightning burst Or loud, condemning voice From heaven, Only bitter knowledge Forever after And the quiet, pleased sound Of Satan's laughter.
There is meaning in anyone's life: A man who had been condemned to a life of forced labor for wrong doings, was shipped to devil's island. On the high seas a fire broke out on the steamer, the convict, a strong man, was released from his handcuffs to help and he saved the lives of ten persons. His sentence was commuted for the act of heroism. If one had asked him before if his life was worth saving, he probably would have shook his head.
Men don't believe in the devil now, as their fathers used to do? They've forced the door of the broadest creed to let his majesty through; There isn't a print of his cloven foot, or a fiery dart from his brow, To be found in the earth or air today, for the world has voted so. But who is mixing the fatal draught that palsies heart and brain, And loads the earth of each passing year with ten hundred thousand slain? Who blights the bloom of the land today with the fiery breath of hell. If the devil isn't and never was? Won't somebody rise and tell? Who dogs the steps of the toiling saint, and digs the pits for his feet? Who sows the tares in the field of Time wherever God sows his wheat? The devil is voted not to be, and of course the thing is true; But who is doing the kind of work the devil alone should do? We are told he does not go about as a roaring lion now. But whom shall we hold responsible for the everlasting row To be heard in home, in church, in state, to the earth's remotest bound, If the devil, by a unanimous vote. is nowhere to be found? Won't somebody step to the front forthwith and make his bow and show How the frauds and crime of the day spring up, for surely we want to know. The devil was fairly voted out, and of course the devil's gone; But simple people would like to know who carries his business on.
A sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he didn't exist.
Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?
A legend of long ago says that the devil gave a hermit the choice of three great vices, one of which was drunkenness. The hermit chose this as being the least sinful; he became drunk, and then he committed the other two.
He that is possessed with a prejudice is possessed with a devil, and one of the worst kinds of devils, for it shuts out the truth, and often leads to ruinous error.
I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that He has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils.
