I lived in Georgetown in the late 70s about four houses down from the steps.

God never talks. But the devil keeps advertising, Father. The devil does a lot of commercials.

Yet I think the demon's target is not the possessed; it is us . . . the observers . . . every person in this house. And I think---I think the point is to make us despair; to reject our own humanity, Damien: to see ourselves as ultimately bestial; as ultimately vile and putrescent; without dignity; ugly; unworthy.

For I think belief in God is not a matter of reason at all; I think it finally is a matter of love.

Your thoughts are too dull to entertain.

Would you like to hear a nice definition of jealousy? It's the feeling that you get when someone you absolutely detest is having a wonderful time without you.

I lived in Georgetown in the late 70s about four houses down from the steps.