What is hell? Hell is oneself, hell is alone, the other figures in it merely projections. There is nothing to escape from and nothing to escape to. One is always alone.
Thus we are brought to the third circle of this hell, which, perhaps, will some day find its Dante.
The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.
The hell with luck. I’ll bring the luck with me.
Only the descent into the hell of self-knowledge can pave the way to godliness.[Nur die Höllenfahrt des Selbsterkenntnisses bahnt den Weg zur Vergötterung.]
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them.
What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.[Чту есть ад? Страдание о том, что нельзя уже более любить.]
To the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee.
There is no dignity in wickedness, whether in purple or rags; and hell is a democracy of devils, where all are equals.
There is heroism even in the circles of hell for fellow-sinners who cling to each other in the fiery whirlwind and never recriminate.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
