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I know that the Crusaders of Majorca put to death, in a single night, all the prisoners who were huddled in the Catalonian trenches. They took the whole herd down to the shore and shot them, one beast at a time - they were quite leisurely about it. The Lord High Archbishop of Palma arranged to be represented at the ceremony, by a certain number of his priests. You can picture the scene can't you? 'Come on, father, isn't that one ready?' - 'Just a moment captain, I'm handing him over to you at once.' When the job was finished, the Crusaders piled their cattle in two heaps - those who'd been given absolution and those who hadn't- then sprinkled petrol over them. It is quite likely that this purification by fire may then have taken on, by reason of the presence of priests officiating a liturgical significance. Unfortunately I only saw these blackened, shiny creatures two days after that, contorted by the flames, some of them counterfeiting obscene poses in death, which must have been very distressing for the ladies of Palma and for their eminent confessors. A reeking tar oozed out of them...
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p.153-154

 

Georges Bernanos

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Why don't I commit suicide? Because I am as sick of death as I am of life. I should be cast into a flaming caldron! Why am I on this earth? I feel the need to cry out, to utter a savage scream that will set the world atremble with dread. I am like a lightning bolt ready to set the world ablaze and swallow it all in the flames of my nothingness. I am the most monstrous being in history, the beast of the apocalypse full of fire and darkness, of aspirations and despair. I am the beast with a contorted grin, contracting down to illusion and dilating toward infinity, both growing and dying, delightfully suspended between hope for nothing and despair of everything, brought up among perfumes and poisons,consumed with love and hatred, killed by lights and shadows. My symbol is the death of light and the flame of death. Sparks die in me only to be reborn as thunder and lightning. Darkness itself glows in me.

 

Emil Cioran

 

When I finished with Captain Marvel I had turned him from a warrior into a mystic. Adam Warlock was a mystical messiah. Where to go from there? Decided to reverse course and turn him into a suicidal paranoid/schizophrenic, which was the way I was feeling at the time. I’ve always used my work to examine what is currently going on in my own life. It’s cheaper than going to a shrink. The Death of Captain Marvel was a great way of working through my own father’s death.

 

Jim Starlin

 

In the Church, priests also are sinners. But I am personally convinced that the constant presence in the press of the sins of Catholic priests, especially in the United States, is a planned campaign, as the percentage of these offenses among priests is not higher than in other categories, and perhaps it is even lower.

 

Benedict XVI (Pope)

 

All those of you who rejoice in peace, now it is time to judge the truth....
Undoubtedly in days gone by there were holy men as Scripture tells,
For God stated that he left behind seven thousand men in safety,
And there are many priests and kings who are righteous under the law,
There you find so many of the prophets, and many of the people too.
Tell me which of the righteous of that time claimed an altar for himself?
That wicked nation perpetrated a very large number of crimes,
They sacrificed to idols and may prophets were put to death,
Yet not a single one of the righteous withdrew from unity.
The righteous endured the unrighteous while waiting for the winnower:
They all mingled in one temple but were not mingled in their hearts;
They said such things against them yet they had a single altar.

 

Augustine of Hippo

 

Once the experience of war makes visible the possibility of death that lies locked up in each moment, our thoughts cannot travel from one day to the next without meeting death's face. The mind is then strung up to a pitch it can stand for only a short time; but each new dawn introduces the same necessity; and days piled on days make years. On each one of these days the soul suffers violence. Regularly, each morning, the soul castrates itself of aspiration, for thought cannot journey through time without meeting death on the way. Thus war effaces all conceptions of purpose or goal, including even its own "war aims." It effaces the very notion of war's being brought to an end. Consequently, nobody does anything to bring this end about. In the presence of an armed enemy, what hand can relinquish its weapon? The mind ought to find a way out, but the mind has lost all capacity to so much as look outward. The mind is completely absorbed in doing itself violence. Always in human life, whether war or slavery is in question, intolerable sufferings continue, as it were, by the force of their own specific gravity, and so look to the outsider as though they deprived the sufferer of the resources which might serve to extricate him. [p.181]

 

Simone Weil