Quotes About Supernatural

She couldn't look at Jacques, who had somehow made his large body thin and weird looking. Carpathians were capable of doing things she didn't want to think about.

Go out the same way you came in, Father Mulligan pleaded. Just one more time, for me. Destiny glanced at Nicolae, who raised an eyebrow at her. His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. Together they melted into vapor, then rushed out beneath the small crack in the door while the priest laughed delightedly.

Never enter the home of a vampire of your own free will. It gives him power over you.

It isn't Jezebel you have to worry about," Gavriil said in a low tone. "It's the devil she's with, and he'll be waiting for you.

Gary turned his face away to hide a smile. Vampires seemed to have women problems, too.

You can't see yourself biting someone's neck, is that it?" Raven laughed softly. "I can't do it either. Yuck. Well…" She blushed, a faint pink stain spreading across her creamy skin. "Mikhail has a way of making it…" She trailed off. Shea found herself blushing, too. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Jacques seems to have that same way about him.

Don't listen to her, Monique. She almost strangled me and threw me against the wall with unbelievable strength. She is unclean." Raven rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm beginning to wish I did have all that power you think I have. I'd find a way to keep you from talking.

The wolf's shape contorted, stretched, shimmered in the smoke of the fire, and soon a large, heavily muscled man was facing Jacques. His long, shaggy mane of hair was blond, his eyes golden, his body perfectly balanced. "You are Jacques, brother to Mikhail. I heard you were dead." "That is the story going around," Jacques assented warily.

Come, Raven. We must leave now." Andre snapped his fingers, holding out his hand. The vampire's face was flushed with fresh blood. The glow of evil was in his eyes; his mouth twisted with cruelty. You cannot allow him to touch you. Mikhail's dictating was grating on already raw nerves. I am not stupid.

Still, Buffy wavers in her duty as the Slayer: He's never done anything to hurt me. And she and Willow talk about him pretty much as they would talk about any boy they were interested in: Willow: Okay, here's something I gotta know: when Angel kissed you, I mean before he turned into...How was it? Buffy: Unbelievable. —ANGEL

the believer claims to know, not just that God exists, but that his most detailed wishes are not merely knowable but actually known. Since religion drew its first breath when the species lived in utter ignorance and considerable fear, I hope I may be forgiven for declining to believe that another human being can tell me what to do, in the most intimate details of my life and mind, and to further dictate these terms as if acting as proxy for a supernatural entity.

Never did will of gods bring anything forth out of nothing." For, in good sooth, it is thus that fear restraineth all mortals, Since both in earth and sky they see that many things happen Whereof they cannot by any known law determine the causes; So their occurrence they ascribe to supernatural power.

The great cultural project... may very well be to rescue what we have of the art and aesthetic of religion while discarding the supernatural.

Prayer: A petition that the laws of nature be suspended in favor of the petitioner; himself confessedly unworthy. Everybody

FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm.] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!

FAUSTUS: Bell, book and candle, candle, book and bell, Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell.

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.

I've won Satan's lottery.

There's always a bloody ghost.

And so Charlie Asher . . . led an army of fourteen-inch-tall bundles of animal bits, armed with everything from knitting needles to a spork, into the storm sewers of San Fransciso.

Religion was supposed to be a matter of faith. Gods were not supposed to jump on your desk and snarl at you. They weren't supposed to sit in your office smoking cigarettes. God's didn't do anything. They were supposed to ignore you and let you suffer and die having never known whether your religion was a waste of time. Faith.

Creep we did, until we were just outside the halo of firelight. Three bent-backed hags were walking a slow circle around a large cauldron, dropping in twisted bits of this and that as they chanted. "Double, double, toil and trouble: Fire burn, and cauldron bubble." "Witches," whispered Kent, paying tribute to the god of all things bloody fucking obvious.

Tommy, I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before. If you repeat it, I'll deny I said it. Five years ago I saw a white owl with a seventy-foot wingspan swoop out of the sky and pluck a demon off a hillside and take off into the sky. I heard that cops get the best drugs, Tommy said.

Rivera rubbed his temples. Satan told you to do it? he said wearily. No. Elvis? I told you, it's supernatural.