She wanted to know what the devil was going on.
Like the choice between the devil and the deep blue sea.
The monkish garb was revealed by Satan to Peter at the baptism, when it was the devil, the ruler of this world, who, so costumed, leaned forward and said, This is my beloved son.
He could have told her he was the devil and that he now owned her soul, and she would have stayed there, wondering if he'd kiss her.
"Now, you have a choice to make," the devil said with a calm smile.
She shuddered to her core at the evil peering through his gaze, feeling very much like the devil was offering her a deal without telling her the price.
The devil left, and an angry Talon hauled her up, sinking his teeth into her arm again.
He paused and then snatched her arm, following the devil as he walked down a sidewalk full of frozen figures.
She'd do anything for him, even if the devil took her soul!
Stop there, you devil with the cart!
The devil skin your Emperor.
But give the devil his due, he paid his way.
But give the devil his due, he paid his way.
Though his eyes were still dark, the devil appeared calm.
Met the devil himself and decided I'd had enough of this shit.
"He used to be the devil but he found God," said the spokesman.
Sewing and crocheting are inventions of the devil, I think.
If they would only expend the same amount of energy loving their fellow men, the devil would die in his own tracks of ennui.