Quotes about wicked

To err is human but contrition felt for the crime distinguishes the virtuous from the wicked

Salvation is not about proving the existence of God Salvation is about where you want to go from this sinful wicked world. Matthew 24

Herein lies the tragedy of the age: not that men are poor, — all men know something of poverty; not that men are wicked, — who is good? not that men are ignorant, — what is Truth? Nay, but that men know so little of men.

Only love of a good woman will make a man question every choice, every action. Only love makes a warrior hesitate for fear that his lady will find him cruel. Only love makes a man both the best he will ever be, and the weakest. Sometimes all in the same moment. -Wicked

Staring at a world too horrible to comprehend, believing -- by dint of ignorance and innocence -- that beneath this unbearable contract of guilt and blame there is always an older contract that may bind and release in a more salutary way.

One never knows how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her — is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is the very least question of definitions.

She was not sorry. And if it was the wine telling her that, then she would tell the wine the same thing tomorrow. She was not sorry.

I like the sound of words, but I don't ever really expect my slow, slanted impression of the world to change by what I read.

The wise will hide your follies and help you learn, but the wicked ones will gossip about it with scoundrels.

We'd rather have a grand spectacle of retribution of the 'wicked', than their silent walk towards redemption that our wishes questions the depth and nature of our love and hearts.

I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reasonBringing something we must learnAnd we are led to those who help us most to grow If we let them and we help them in return.

Like a comet pulled from orbit, As it passes a sun. Like a stream that meets a boulder, Halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good It well may be, That we will never meet again, In this lifetime. So let me say before we part, So much of me, Is made of what I learned from you. You'll be with me, Like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have re-written mine, By being my friend

The virtuous man contents himself with dreaming that which the wicked man does in actual life.

Galinda didn't see the verdant world through the glass of the carriage; she saw her own reflection instead. She had the nearsightedness of youth. She reasoned that because she was beautiful she was significant, though what she signified, and to whom, was not clear yet...She was, after all, on her way to Shiz because she was smart. But there was more than one way to be smart.

She had that look a child has only a few times in its life, when the child has bettered her betters. The expression isn't smug, though adults often take it for smugness. It's something else. Maybe relief at having confirmed through personal experience the long-held suspicion of our species, that the enchanted world of childhood is merely a mask for something else, a more subtle and paradoxical magic.- p. 157

Every wicked act is a snare.

Manipulation, fueled with good intent, can be a blessing. But when used wickedly, it is the beginning of a magician's karmic calamity.

Of course. You get everything from books.

Stories are the thing which shapes our kinky and wicked minds.

She also understood there was a hole in her heart where her son should be, that she was a wicked, selfish woman for wishing him back.

The woe of wrath comes to whoever does wicked acts.

One must be cunning and wicked in this world.

What had survived - maybe all that had survived of Trism - was Liir's sense of him. A catalog of impressions that arose from time to time, unbidden and often upsetting. From the sandy smell of his sandy hair to the locked grip of his muscles as they had wrestled in sensuous aggression - unwelcome nostalgia. Trism lived in Liir's heart like a full suit of clothes in a wardrobe, dress habillards maybe, hollow and real at once. The involuntary memory of the best of Trism's glinting virtues sometime

Birds know themselves not to be at the center of anything, but at the margins of everything. The end of the map. We only live where someone's horizon sweeps someone else's. We are only noticed on the edge of things; but on the edge of things, we notice much.

Just my luck, if I believed in luck. I only believe in the opposite of luck, whatever that is.

Come what may and hell to pay.

To me, a wicked man who is also eloquent seems the most guilty of them all. He'll cut your throat as bold as brass, because he can dress up murder in handsome words.

Neither every rich person is noble nor miser.Neither every poor person is humble nor wicked.

My hate is general, I detest all men;Some because they are wicked and do evil,Others because they tolerate the wicked,Refusing them the active vigorous scornWhich vice should stimulate in virtuous minds.

And of the Witch? In the life of a Witch, there is no "after", in the "ever after" of a Witch there is no "happily"; in the story of a Witch, there is no afterword. Of that part that is beyond the life story, beyond the story of the life, there is-alas, or perhaps thank mercy-no telling. She was dead, dead, and gone, and all that was left of her was the carapace of her reputation for malice.

Only the wicked understand the ways of the wicked, my dear. ~Madame Zelda to Roller Deb

One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her- is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?

Wickedness never rests easily so, in a way, one might almost feel pity for the wicked, for they are destined to live their lives in fear, in a prison of the heart.

We can't play God.We can't do this to kids.You're evil, I'm evil.Everyone will die.No matter what.Let nature win.

I only have two fingers left.I wrote the lies of my farewell with two fingers.That is the truth.We are evil.They are kids.We are evil.

Was he he handsome?" she asked with a sly smirk."Very. He is still, I think.""The devil, they say, goes about in finery.""And if you believe Beelzebub is as cunning as he is attractive, then I think we have found him.

Sanity is an illusion. Created by the minds of people who fear the wicked.

You got secrets you better keepTake flight before she cuts you deep- Sam's song

Don't wish,"said Rain, "don't start. Wishing only...

All my life, I've understood the nature of where I come from, but I never thought it might be wicked until now.

The dust was antique spice, burnt maple leaves, a prickling blue that teemed and sifted to earth. Swarming its own shadows, the dust filtered over the tents.

It's true what they say, Love is a wicked game,A game so wickedly played,I am at your command in your wicked games.

We can go somewhere more private if you’d like… Buck” I whisper softly in his ear, pulling back almost as slowly as the wicked grin spreads across my face. His perverse smile hides nothing. I have him now, hook, line and zipper.

I see you go bare-shod. This is most likely extremely sensible. Shoes are no end of trouble for girls. . . . How many have danced to death in slippers of silk and glass and fur and wood? Too many to count—the graveyards, they are so full these days. You are very wise to let your soles become grubby with mud, to let them grow their own slippers of moss and clay and calluses. This is far preferable to shoes which may become wicked at any moment.

Isn't that funny, that deity is passe but the attributes and implications of deity linger--

For the righteous, the revelation is a joyous event, the realization of a divine truth. But for the wicked, revelations can be far more terrifying, when dark secrets are exposed and sinners are punished for their trespasses.

We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out.

I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them not ashamed.

If a wicked rake doesn’t kiss a young lady when they’re alone in a moonlit rose garden, might it mean he doesn’t intend to? There were rules about such things. Weren’t they written down somewhere? If not, then they should be. A Treatise on Rakes, written for Susceptible Young Ladies, by a Lady of Distinction.

I think I finally understand the saying like a moth to a flame. I’m the moth. My heart flutters like the paper thin wings. And he is the flame, incendiary, scorching my soul.He inhales so heavily, like he’s been holding his breath under water. He presses his lips against mine and tugs at my hair gently. My head falls back and my mouth falls open. His tongue, slick as silver, dances with mine.I’m wrong. I’m not a moth. I’m Icarus and I’ve flown too close to the sun.

There’s something familiar about the curve of her lower lip. The weight cradled by a soft, slender chin. The bow of her top lip sweeps across it in a way that makes me think of the sun setting on the horizon. A perfect paint stroke of pink to light the sky. -Excerpt from Born Wicked ©2014 A.D. Evans

The aftermath of bearing shackles is an exquisite devastation, fraught with the ravages of survival. Even though one is no longer held captive—be that from a person, a government, or one’s inner self—the scars are deeply engraved into one’s psyche, and there’s no remedy for the soul. Many have the misconception that freedom equals happiness forever and ever.That’s a wicked delusion.

Grabbing a scarf off the chair, I threw it at him. He caught it, clutching it to his chest as he flew into the air. "You gave Tink a scarf. Tink is free!" He flew out into the hallway like a little cracked-out fairy, screeching, "Tink is freeeeee!"Ren looked at me. "What the actual f**k?"I sighed. "He's obsessed with Harry Potter. I'm sorry."Tink darted back into the room, holding the scarf to his bare chest. "There is no reason to apologize when it comes to Harry Potter.""You do remember what h

I want to move my hands, but they’re fused to his rib cage. I feel his lung span, his heartbeat, his very life force wrapped in these flimsy bars of bone. So fragile yet so solid. Like a brick wall with wet mortar. A juxtaposition of hard and soft.He inhales again. “Jayme,” he says my name with a mix of sigh and inquiry.I open my eyes and peer into his flushed face. Roses have bloomed on his ruddy cheeks and he looks as though he’s raced the wind.“Mm?” I reply. My mind is full of babble, I’m so

He would argue with her about killing themselves; and explain how wicked people were; how he could see them making up lies as they passed in the street. He knew all their thoughts, he said; he knew everything. He knew the meaning of the world, he said.

Why are we learning about the past, when this is History?

I cannot here withhold the statement that optimism, where it is not merely the thoughtless talk of those who harbor nothing but words under their shallow foreheads, seems to me to be not merely an absurd, but also a really wicked, way of thinking, a bitter mockery of the most unspeakable sufferings of mankind.

The overdressed traveler betrays more interest in being seen than in seeing, while the true traveler knows that the novel world about her serves as the most appropriate accessory.

Always be good, but be wickedly beautiful.

Perhaps, thought Nanny, little green Elphaba chose her own sex, and her own color, and to hell with her parents.

The good man, though a slave, is free; the wicked, though he reigns, is a slave, and not the slave of a single man, but - what is worse - the slave of as many masters as he has vices.

None so good that he has no faults, None so wicked that he is worth naught.

And now,' said the unknown, 'farewell kindness, humanity, and gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings that expand the heart! I have been heaven's substitute to recompense the good - now the god of vengeance yields to me his power to punish the wicked!

There is something sad about malevolence, to be wicked. I have always tried to make that come across in the villains I have played.