Quotes
Quotes about Hell
Let none admire
That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.
Long is the way
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
The other shape,
If shape it might be call'd that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd,
For each seem'd either,--black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Satan was now at hand.
Hell
Grew darker at their frown.
I fled, and cry'd out, DEATH!
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd
From all her caves, and back resounded, DEATH!
The hell within him.
Which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep,
Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
All hell broke loose.
Nor jealousy
Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.
I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman,--scorned, slighted, dismissed without a parting pang.
Time flies, death urges, knells call, Heaven invites,
Hell threatens.
To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite,
Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
There, take (says Justice), take ye each a shell:
We thrive at Westminster on fools like you;
'T was a fat oyster,--live in peace,--adieu.
Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
Oh woman, woman! when to ill thy mind
Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend.
Hell is paved with good intentions.
Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
Give ample room and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.
The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honour grip,
Let that aye be your border.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell;
And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour
A thousand melodies unheard before!
I have seen
A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy, for from within were heard
Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with his native sea.
But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
Within, and they that lustre have imbibed
In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked
His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave:
Shake one, and it awakens; then apply
Its polisht lips to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.
In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
