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Quote by Aida Mandic

“The Dark Cloud Is a destination that is overdone, overplayed, and gone Is a score that shoots straight from the moon and sun Is a league of shadows that drive directly through the interstate Is an exit from hell that likes to agonize, torture, and wait”

Quote by Aida Mandic

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The Dark Cloud

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Aida Mandic

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“The profound misery that Akathisia symptoms cause has ruined my daily existence, making basic chores and personal passions impossible. A sense of futility and alienation has replaced the delight of simple joys and successes. My once-vibrant existence has been reduced to survival, interspersed by occasional relief from Georgie, my cat. Georgie's company has given me hope that life can still be full of unconditional love and simple joy, even at its worst periods. This great adversity inspires me to persevere. While my circumstances appear overwhelming, my tenacity in despair shows the invincible human spirit. Georgie's constant presence has taught me that there is always something to live for, even in despair. Healing is possible, and joy and meaning in life, however elusive, are within grasp. I face my problems with this weak but growing hope, determined to find my way back to a meaningful and happy existence.”

“The conception of hell as a place where souls are literally burned everlastingly with fire and brimstone is ridiculous. It is the propensity for vindictiveness in man's own heart that assumes such awful cruelty as the revenge of a Creator offended by the misdeeds of man. Poor God! That is a terrible declaration against Him—the Father-Mother who created all things in love, sustains them on the Infinite Bosom of love, and draws them back to Everlasting Bliss by the forgiveness of love. The transmigration of the soul through the matrix of reincarnation with its transforming opportunities for better efforts preclude any justification for an everlasting punishment meted out for man's temporary lapses into ignorance and evil. The evil man in time becomes again the perfect soul. At what point would a just God suddenly cancel an individual's divine birthright to keep striving toward the potentials of his true Self, to suffer instead an everlasting hell? It is untenable that Jesus, who was love, mercy, forgiveness incarnate, would support and preach such a doctrine. The context of his whole life and teachings forbids a literal reading of references to hell as a place of eternal fiery torment.”

“Not only is the lower astral realm made up of our collective negative thoughts and emotions, but we continually feed it through our negativity, including negative forms of entertainment. Violent movies, television shows, and music that exaggerate people's fears and cruel behavior may seem exciting but they only exacerbate the baser thoughts of society. The creators of such negative images may be under the influence of ghosts of the lower astral world. All is energy, and negative energy like fear, anger and hate becomes imbedded in the lower astral level.”

“• Jesus was sent to be “the savior of the world.” • Jesus said he would “draw all people” to himself. • Jesus prayed for the salvation of all, and his will is to save everyone. Are these things true? Or will Jesus fail? Most people I’ve met believe Christ will fail spectacularly. Not for them, of course, but for everyone else. Today most modern Christians teach that God lacks either the power or the desire to save us all. They tell us Jesus will not succeed in achieving his stated purpose, and that some people will unfortunately slip through the cracks and be lost forever. I disagree.”

“There was a place in Hell where skulls were the only ornaments, and the servants had no faces. Even from there he had been cast out. As a shadow of a shade he came to dwell at the edge of a certain abyss, in a tower built out of the bodies of those he had personally marked when he had been allowed in the dark councils of Mictlan. This happened soon after the masters of the Celestial Intervention Agency, the Celestis, had pulled the doors of perception closed behind themselves lest their histories be unravelled in the war with the Time Lords’ future enemy, in the battles they had foreseen. They had put reality behind them like a bad dream and turned themselves into creatures built out of mythemes and the working of nanoscopic machine-demons. They had poisoned the walls of reality itself, until Mictlan had bubbled up into existence on its far side, a cyst of galled space-time cut off from the time winds. It was their glorious world of the dead.”

“Hell wasn’t what Rincewind had been led to expect, although there were signs of what it might once have been – a few clinkers in a corner, a bad scorch mark on the ceiling. It was hot, though, with the kind of heat that you get by boiling air inside an oven for years – Hell, it has been suggested, is other people. This has always come as a bit of a surprise to many working demons, who had always thought hell was sticking sharp things into people and pushing them into lakes of blood and so on. This is because demons, like most people, have failed to distinguish between the body and the soul. The fact was that, as droves of demon kings had noticed, there was a limit to what you could do to a soul with, e.g., red-hot tweezers, because even fairly evil and corrupt souls were bright enough to realise that since they didn’t have the concomitant body and nerve endings attached to them there was no real reason, other than force of habit, why they should suffer excruciating agony. So they didn’t. Demons went on doing it anyway, because numb and mindless stupidity is part of what being a demon is all about, but since no-one was suffering they didn’t enjoy it much either and the whole thing was pointless. Centuries and centuries of pointlessness. Astfgl, [the current Demon King,] had adopted, without realising what he was doing, a radically new approach. Demons can move interdimensionally, and so he’d found the basic ingredients for a very worthwhile lake of blood equivalent, as it were, for the soul. Learn from humans, he’d told the demon lords. Learn from humans. It’s amazing what you can learn from humans. You take, for example, a certain type of hotel. It is probably an English version of an American hotel, but operated with that peculiarly English genius for taking something American and subtracting from it its one worthwhile aspect, so that you end up with slow fast food, West Country and Western music and, well, this hotel. It’s early closing day. The bar is really just a pastel-pink paneled table with a silly bucket on it, set in one corner, and it won’t be open for hours yet. And then you add rain, and let the one channel available on the TV be, perhaps, Welsh Channel Four, showing its usual mobius Eisteddfod from Pant-y-gyrdl. And there is only one book in this hotel, left behind by a previous victim. It is one of those where the name of the author is on the front in raised gold letters much bigger than the tittle, and it probably has a rose and a bullet on there too. Half the pages are missing. And the only cinema in the town is showing something with subtitles and French umbrellas in it. And then you stop time, but not experience, so that it seems as though the very fluff in the carpet is gradually rising up to fill the brain and your mouth starts to taste like an old denture. And you make it last for ever and ever. That’s even longer than from now to opening time. And then you distil it.”

Book:Eric