The fire of hell is called eternal, only because it never ends. Still, there is change in the pains of the lost... Hence in hell true eternity does not exist, but rather time.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed in one self place; for where we are is Hell, and where Hell is, there must we ever be.
A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of hell.
I hate thinking about it, teaching about it, and writing about it. But the plain truth is that hell is real and real people go there for eternity.
I have no mouth, and I must scream.
At Westboro, the depictions of hell are extremely vivid. The only thing that changes in hell, according to the church, is your capacity to feel pain. As the capacity to feel pain increases, so does the pain. It's absolutely terrifying. I believed God was going to curse me for having left this group of people.
Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons.
Therefore the elect shall go forth... to see the torments of the impious, seeing which they will not be grieved, but will be satiated with joy at the sight of the unutterable calamity of the impious.
Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, hast thou more of pain or pleasure! Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee!
I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.
There is no more steely barb than that of the Infinite.
Sometimes my heart hurts so much, I beat it with my fists. I try to run. But you cannot run from this. It waits for you. Even when you think you have escaped it, it is there.
I yearn for the darkness. I pray for death. Real death. If I thought that in death I would meet the people I've known in life I don't know what I'd do. That would be the ultimate horror. The ultimate despair. If I had to meet my mother again and start all of that all over, only this time without the prospect of death to look forward to? Well. That would be the final nightmare. Kafka on wheels.
Death and hell are never full, and neither are men's eyes.
Atheists have to live with the knowledge that there is no salvation, no redemption, no second chances. Lives can go terribly wrong in ways that can never be put right.
In 2001, my father finally succumbed to the bone cancer that had tortured him for seven years. His last weeks were a terrible, black icing on the cake, the agony, the slow twisting, thinning and snapping of his skeleton. Everything fell apart.
My dear sir, it haunted me for the rest of my life.
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
My idea of going to hell is going somewhere where there are no books.
Hell is nothing else but nature departed or excluded from the beam of divine light.
If in my youth I had realized that the sustaining splendour of beauty of with which I was in love would one day flood back into my heart, there to ignite a flame that would torture me without end, how gladly would I have put out the light in my eyes.
It is very hard to explain to people who have never known serious depression or anxiety the sheer continuous intensity of it. There is no off switch.
I am my heart's undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it all again tomorrow.
There are certain things that are too painful for people to even write about sometimes, and there are certain things that are too hard to read about again.
Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.
