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Evil is unintelligible. It is just a thing in itself, like boarding a crowded commuter train wearing only a giant boa constrictor. There is no context which would make it explicable.

Evil wants you to think that its power is absolute, endless. It wants to so make you quake and quiver that all you'll do is fall down and worship it.

I think there's something about evil that is thoughtless and relentless and incredibly frightening because it can't be reckoned with, reasoned with or stopped.

Much that we call evil is really good in disguises; and we should not quarrel rashly with adversities not yet understood, nor overlook the mercies often bound up in them.

There is something mean in human nature that prefers to think evil, that gives a willing ear and a ready welcome to calumny, a sort of jealousy of goodness and greatness and things of good report.

'Evil' is quite a blanket term. People aren't the demonic characters we would like them to be sometimes.

Evil is often supposed to be without rhyme or reason.

Evil is such a simplistic way to describe any character, be it Iago or Caliban, or any character from history.

Evil is a sucker for solidity. It always goes for big numbers, for confident granite, for ideological purity, for drilled armies and balanced sheets.

There is no explanation for evil. It must be looked upon as a necessary part of the order of the universe. To ignore it is childish, to bewail it senseless.