#voodoo

My grandfather was a voodoo priest. A lot of my life dealt with spirituality. I can close my eyes and remember where I come from. ↗

— Wyclef Jean

#come #dealt #eyes #grandfather #i

No evil ever came from a woman’s womb that wasn’t placed there first by a man.’... Tantie Neptune, Lucifer's Key by Charles A. Cornell, due 2013 ↗

— Charles A. Cornell

#occult #supernatural #thriller #thrillers #tiger-paw

I straightforward invite you to this worldly connection of god and their function for the procedures of performing magical rites. I ensure you with the best voodoo and love spell which will embody magical powers. ↗

— Ever Smith

#voodoo #love

And then I got what she was saying. In the paranormal world, everyone was your enemy. ↗

— Jayde Scott

#jayde-scott #paranormal #vampire #voodoo-kiss #inspirational

A fan once asked if he could have a piece of my hair for voodoo. I said no, so he hugged me and plucked out a couple of hairs and ran off. ↗

— Amy Lee

#could #couple #fan #hair #hairs

I'm not the one who's so far away When I feel the snake bite enter my veins. Never did I wanna be here again, And I don't remember why I came. ↗

— Sully Erna

#erna #godsmack #metal #music #snake

Bone Daddy. That's what they called him. A walking talking well-hung pleasure factory who, with a few easy orgasms, could bring you whatever your heart desired. Your boyfriend would propose, your boss would give you a raise. Rumor had it he could heal your scars, inside and out. If you satisfied his lust. ↗

— R.G. Alexander

#possess-me #r-g-alexander #tempt-me #voodoo #erotic-romance

I'd call it a new version of voodoo economics, but I'm afraid that would give witch doctors a bad name. ↗

— Geraldine Ferraro

#bad #call #doctors #economics #give

Haiti itself was also photographed, some of the streets, some of the mountains, rivers, streams, etc. were photographed before talking with me about how I felt about Haiti. Then the camera went to our voodoo temple and saw a serious ceremony, a real ceremony. ↗

— Katherine Dunham

#also #before #camera #ceremony #etc

The sun goes down and it's night-time in New Orleans. The moon rises, midnight chimes from St. Louis cathedral, and hardly has the last note died away than a gruesome swampland whistle sounds outside the deathly still house. A fat Negress, basket on arm, comes trudging up the stairs a moment later, opens the door, goes in to the papaloi, closes it again, traces an invisible mark on it with her forefinger and kisses it. Then she turns and her eyes widen with surprise. Papa Benjamin is in bed, covered up to the neck with filthy rags. The familiar candles are all lit, the bowl for the blood, the sacrificial knife, the magic powders, all the paraphernalia of the ritual are laid out in readiness, but they are ranged about the bed instead of at the opposite end of the room as usual. The old man's head, however, is held high above the encumbering rags, his beady eyes gaze back at her unflinchingly, the familiar semicircle of white wool rings his crown, his ceremonial mask is at his side. 'I am a little tired, my daughter,' he tells her. His eyes stray to the tiny wax image of Eddie Bloch under the candles, hairy with pins, and hers follow them. 'A doomed one, nearing his end, came here last night thinking I could be killed like other men. He shot a bullet from a gun at me. I blew my breath at it, it stopped in the air, turned around, and went back in the gun again. But it tired me to blow so hard, strained my voice a little.' A revengeful gleam lights up the woman's broad face. 'And he'll die soon, papaloi?' 'Soon,' cackles the weazened figure in the bed. The woman gnashes her teeth and hugs herself delightedly. ("Papa Benjamin" aka "Dark Melody Of Madness") ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#voodoo #death