A Quote by Nancy Farmer

If I had a soul, I’d probably wind up in hell anyway. — © Nancy Farmer
If I had a soul, I’d probably wind up in hell anyway.

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I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul Where I end up, well, I think only God really knows.
Growing up we were secular Jews, but what I got out of Judaism at that time in my life was questions. Everything was a question. "Dad, is there a heaven? Is there a hell?" You never could get an answer. That informed a lot of my reasons for getting into Scientology, because they had all the answers. They said I was not my body, not my mind. I don't have a soul; I am an immortal soul. I've lived many lives and I'll live endlessly into the future, and as an immortal soul I have no gender.
I sold my soul to the devil. I'm going to hell. I'm headed to hell. I want the money, the women, the fortune, and the fame. That Means I'll end up burning in hell scorching in flames. Satan'll be in to see me later to see if I'm interested in being partners. Devil worshippin', Satan music.
What the hell has (Herbert) Hoover got to do with it? Anyway, I had a better year than he did.
We may have hell if we have war, and we may have hell if we have peace. But if we have no vision for what we do, we have hell anyway.
A smart woman would have shut up. Did I? Hell no. Intelligence is overrated anyway.
A regular wind-up toy world this is, I think. Once a day the wind-up bird has to come and wind the springs of this world. Alone in this fun house, only I grow old, a pale softball of death swelling inside me. Yet even as I sleep somewhere between Saturn and Uranus, wind-up birds everywhere are busy at work fulfilling their appointed rounds.
There are parts on 'Wind's Poem' that are literal recordings of wind. I had this old sound effects record that I got some wind from and then I figured out that distorted cymbals sound just like wind so I used that a lot.
Ziri's soul felt like the high roaming wind of the Adelphas Mountains and the beat of stormhunters' wings, like the beautiful, mournful, eternal song of the wind flutes that had filled their caves with music he could not possibly remember. It felt like home.
For many years, Sierra had compared the Holy Spirit to the wind, as it said the the Bible, noting that it was always there, no matter how faint the breeze. The wind went where it wanted to go, and its path was easy to detect because it moved objects and people. But no one had ever seen the wind.
Think of Jonathan Edwards who thundered the terrors of God and what Hell was like until men grasped their seats and hung on to them, fearing they were falling into Hell itself. Men were moved by fear to escape damnation. That was believed to be Christianity. Why any coward wanted to keep out of Hell. He might not have had one idea in his soul of what was the real true earmark of Christianity.
The devil tryna rip out my soul. Lost my soul. I'll see you in hell. I see the devil linger on, stuck in my hell.
Sorry for the tune up between time, but what the hell, cowboys are the only ones who stay in tune, anyway.
He had no one but himself to blame, for he’d opened himself up to it. Just a fraction at first, like a crack in a window. But the funny thing was, once you welcomed in a breeze, there was no stopping what came next. A wind, a storm, thunder and lightning, until you could no longer reach the window to close it—and didn’t really want to anyway. That’s what this new darkness was. Evil in its purest form... -Paris
Mother loved the wind. When I was growing up, she would recite this poem to me. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I, But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by. So it is with God.
When I'm at home creating music, I usually wind up laughing. It's always, like, funny - like, what the hell did I just write?
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