The Exorcist

by William Peter Blatty

The brittle remnants of cosmic torment that once made him wonder if matter was Lucifer upward-groping back to his God.

WHAT WE GIVE TO THE POOR IS WHAT WE TAKE WITH US WHEN WE DIE.

Alien code tapped out by a dead man.

THE KNOCK IN 3'SSSSS

and on a quick, warm impulse leaned over the bed and kissed her cheek. “I sure do love you,” she whispered.

😢

More rooted in logic was the silence of God. In the world there was evil and much of it resulted from doubt, from an honest confusion among men of good will. Would a reasonable God refuse to end it? Not finally reveal Himself? Not speak?

They waited in the car while he lingered by the grave. He could not bear the thought of her being alone.

ouch!!!

MY BROTHER HURTS. I SHARE HIS PAIN. I MEET GOD IN HIM.

Shrieking hysterically and flailing her arms, her body seemed to fling itself up horizontally into the air above her bed

AHHH *me scared*

“Well, the doctors say I shouldn’t,” he said, “but thank God, my will is weak.”

And I think—I think the point is to make us despair; to reject our own humanity, Damien: to see ourselves as ultimately bestial, vile and putrescent; without dignity; ugly; unworthy. And there lies the heart of it, perhaps: in unworthiness. For I think belief in God is not a matter of reason at all; I think it finally is a matter of love: of accepting the possibility that God could ever love us.”

“Perhaps evil is the crucible of goodness,” he brooded. “And perhaps even Satan—Satan, in spite of himself—somehow serves to work out the will of God.”