Quotes
CROWLEY . . . WE WILL WIN THIS WAR, BUT EVEN IF WE LOSE, AT LEAST AS FAR AS YOU
ARE CONCERNED, IT WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE AT ALL. FOR AS LONG AS THERE IS ONE
DEMON LEFT IN HELL, CROWLEY, YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD BEEN CREATED MORTAL.
MORTALS CAN HOPE FOR DEATH, OR FOR REDEMPTION.
YOU CAN HOPE FOR NOTHING.
ALL YOU CAN HOPE FOR IS THE MERCY OF HELL.
That's how it goes, you think you're on top of the world, and suddenly they spring Armageddon on you. The Great War, the Last Battle. Heaven versus Hell, three rounds, one Fall, no submission. And that'd be that. No more world. That's what the end of the world meant. No more world. Just endless Heaven or, depending who won, endless Hell. Crowley didn't know which was worse.
~*~
He'd been an angel once. He hadn't meant to Fall. He'd just hung around with the wrong people.
~*~
He rather liked people. It was a major failing in a demon.
Oh, he did his best to make their short lives miserable, because that was his job, but nothing he could think up was half as bad as the stuff they thought up themselves. They seemed to have a talent for it. It was built into the design, somehow. They were born into a world that was against them in a thousand little ways, and then devoted most of their energies to making it worse. And then just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free will thing, of course. It was a bugger.
~*~
Hell wasn't a major reservoir of evil, any more than Heaven, in Crowley's opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game. Where you found the real mccoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.
~*~
Plan A had worked. Plan B had failed. Everything depended on Plan C, and there was one drawback to this: he had only ever planned as far as B.
~*~
"God does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice.
"Whooo-eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?"
~*~
Crowley started to argue, and realized that he hadn't anything. There was nothing he could lose that he hadn't lost already. They couldn't do anything worse to him than he had coming to him already. He felt free at last.
He also felt under the seat and found a tire iron. It wouldn't be any good, but then, nothing would. In fact it'd be much more terrible facing the Adversary with anything like a decent weapon. That way you might have a bit of hope, which would make it worse.
~*~
Crowley's New Year's Resolutions:
Resolution #1: I must accept that Super-Gluing valuable coins to the sidewalk and then watching events from a nearby café is not proper demonic activity.
Resolution #2: The same applies to rearranging the letters on wayside pulpits.
Resolution #3: Try to come up with something as good as cell phone ringtones, following one last stab at convincing Downstairs that cell phone ringtones are right up there in the whole Human Misery stakes. And iPods. Has anybody Down There even said thank you for iPods? Or "Googling yourself?" Frankly, I deserve some kind of award for "Googling yourself."
Resolution #4: I must encourage greedy people to use the term, "Low-hanging fruit," because that's just like old times.
Resolution #5: This year, I will get a desk near the window.
Resolution #6: I will try to understand why Hell is a no-smoking area. I just think it's ridiculous having to stand around outside the gates, that's all.
Resolution #7: On the orders of Head Office I will encourage the belief in Intelligent Design, because it upsets everyone.
Resolution #8: Stop Googling myself.
ARE CONCERNED, IT WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE AT ALL. FOR AS LONG AS THERE IS ONE
DEMON LEFT IN HELL, CROWLEY, YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD BEEN CREATED MORTAL.
MORTALS CAN HOPE FOR DEATH, OR FOR REDEMPTION.
YOU CAN HOPE FOR NOTHING.
ALL YOU CAN HOPE FOR IS THE MERCY OF HELL.
That's how it goes, you think you're on top of the world, and suddenly they spring Armageddon on you. The Great War, the Last Battle. Heaven versus Hell, three rounds, one Fall, no submission. And that'd be that. No more world. That's what the end of the world meant. No more world. Just endless Heaven or, depending who won, endless Hell. Crowley didn't know which was worse.
~*~
He'd been an angel once. He hadn't meant to Fall. He'd just hung around with the wrong people.
~*~
He rather liked people. It was a major failing in a demon.
Oh, he did his best to make their short lives miserable, because that was his job, but nothing he could think up was half as bad as the stuff they thought up themselves. They seemed to have a talent for it. It was built into the design, somehow. They were born into a world that was against them in a thousand little ways, and then devoted most of their energies to making it worse. And then just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free will thing, of course. It was a bugger.
~*~
Hell wasn't a major reservoir of evil, any more than Heaven, in Crowley's opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game. Where you found the real mccoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.
~*~
Plan A had worked. Plan B had failed. Everything depended on Plan C, and there was one drawback to this: he had only ever planned as far as B.
~*~
"God does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice.
"Whooo-eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?"
~*~
Crowley started to argue, and realized that he hadn't anything. There was nothing he could lose that he hadn't lost already. They couldn't do anything worse to him than he had coming to him already. He felt free at last.
He also felt under the seat and found a tire iron. It wouldn't be any good, but then, nothing would. In fact it'd be much more terrible facing the Adversary with anything like a decent weapon. That way you might have a bit of hope, which would make it worse.
~*~
Crowley's New Year's Resolutions:
Resolution #1: I must accept that Super-Gluing valuable coins to the sidewalk and then watching events from a nearby café is not proper demonic activity.
Resolution #2: The same applies to rearranging the letters on wayside pulpits.
Resolution #3: Try to come up with something as good as cell phone ringtones, following one last stab at convincing Downstairs that cell phone ringtones are right up there in the whole Human Misery stakes. And iPods. Has anybody Down There even said thank you for iPods? Or "Googling yourself?" Frankly, I deserve some kind of award for "Googling yourself."
Resolution #4: I must encourage greedy people to use the term, "Low-hanging fruit," because that's just like old times.
Resolution #5: This year, I will get a desk near the window.
Resolution #6: I will try to understand why Hell is a no-smoking area. I just think it's ridiculous having to stand around outside the gates, that's all.
Resolution #7: On the orders of Head Office I will encourage the belief in Intelligent Design, because it upsets everyone.
Resolution #8: Stop Googling myself.