Paradise was made for tender hearts; hell, for loveless hearts.
We all have time to write. We have time to write the minute we are willing to write badly, to chase a dead end, to scribble a few words, to write for the hell of it instead of for the perfect and polished result.
I fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.
I acknowledge that I have no idea who the hell I am, and I think that's the first step.
I have two rules in life - to hell with it, whatever it is, and get your work done.
The world is poor for him who has never been sick enough for this 'voluptuousness of hell
I'd been doing comedy up that point and hadn't really done a lot of drama, and then all of a sudden he casts me as a 400-year-old vampire from hell. It was, like, "What?!"
This little life has its duties that are great-that are alone great, and that go up to heaven and down to hell.
The faith in which I was brought up assured me that I was better than other people; I was saved, they were damned. . . . Our hymns were loaded with arrogance - self-congratulation on how cozy we were with the Almighty and what a high opinion he had of us, what hell everybody else would catch come Judgment Day.
Oh. What if we eat a lot with people that annoy the hell out of us?
unlove's the heavenless hell and the homeless home
How can you be in hell while you are in my heart?
I imagine hell like this: Italian punctuality, German humour and English wine.
By my reckoning, I'm about 100 kilometers from Pathfinder. Technically it's called “Carl Sagan Memorial Station. ” But with all due respect to Carl, I can call it whatever the hell I want. I'm the King of Mars.
You have no control over your cat! You can't say to your cat, Cat, heel! Stay! Wait! Lie down! Roll over! 'Cause the cat's just gonna be sitting there going, Interesting words. . . have you finished? While you're shouting all this to your cat, your dog's next to you, going. . . What the hell are you doing? I'm talking to the cat! Oh, I'm sorry!
In hell it is difficult to tell people from other people.
Love in your mind produces love in your life. This is the meaning of Heaven. Fear in your mind produces fear in your life. This is the meaning of hell.
Heaven is laying in my sweet baby's arms, hell is when my baby's not here.
Although the time of death is approaching me, I am not afraid of dying and going to Hell or (what would be considerably worse) going to the popularized version of Heaven. I expect death to be nothingness and, for removing me from all possible fears of death, I am thankful to atheism.
I mean, there's a hell of a lot of grounds for protest, but you don't do it through music.