The Parliament of Toulouse burned 400 witches at one time. Four hundred women at one hour on the public square, dying the horrid death of fire for a crime which never existed save in the imagination of those persecutors and which grew in their imagination from a false belief in woman’s extraordinary wickedness, based upon a false theory as to original sin.

Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar. Let me pry loose old walls. Let me lift and loosen old foundations.

I got slugs for snitches, no love for bitches, puttin' thugs in ditches when my trigger finger itches

Behold, as a wild ass in the desert, go I forth to my work.

I have fought with gun and cutlass On the red and slippery deck With all Hell aflame within me And a rope around my neck.

Cruisin' down the street in my six-fo' jockin' da bitches slappin da hoes.

I'm placin' snitches inside lakes and ditches, and if I catch AIDS I'ma start rapin' bitches

In wrath I strike, and set the dark ablaze
With the immortal spark of thought,
By friction-process brought
Of concentration
And distraction.
The darkness burns
With a million tongues;
And now I spy
All past, all distant things, as nigh.

We are the blood
of the witches
you thought were dead.

We carry witchcraft in our bones
whilst magic still sings
inside out heads.

When the witch hunters
imprisoned out ancestors
when they tried to burn the magic away.

Someone should have
warned them
that magic cannot be tamed.

Because you cannot burn away
what has always
been aflame.

Stunta I got em' I’m back on them bitches!

In your books I have flung myself into the bottomless pit, performed miracles, slain, burned towns, preached new religions, conquered whole kingdoms

I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity.

I was seized by a fury I did not understand, an instinctive rage coming from deep inside. My mind filled with what seemed like memories of things that had never happened, of vicious battles with these creatures. They were my enemy and I was driven to kill them, to tear into them with my teeth and close my jaws on their necks.

[P]utrefy in the belly of the crafty worm Azazel, and be burned by the fire of Azazel's tongue.