In the plastic arts these symbols [depictions of angels] have steadily degenerated. Fra Angelico’s angels carry in their face and gesture the peace and authority of heaven. Later come the chubby infantile nudes of Raphael; finally the soft, slim, girlish and consolatory angels of nineteenth-century art, shapes so feminine that they avoid being voluptuous only by their total insipidity—the frigid houris of a tea-table paradise. They are a pernicious symbol. In Scripture the visitation of an angel is always alarming; it has to begin by saying “Fear not.” The Victorian angel looks as if it were going to say “There, there.”

C.S. Lewis, Preface to the Paper Back Edition, The Screwtape Letters.

We are natural laws, Matthew. We were once waves and quanta. We danced, not on the heads of pins, but in the orbits of electrons.

Our numbers are not unlimited: six of my brothers fell in the field this week.

Dean: Who are you?

Castiel: Castiel.

Dean: Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?

Castiel: I am an Angel of the Lord.

Dean: Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.

Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly.
— G. K. Chesterton

Metatron: Oh, get over yourself, will you? I couldn't rape you if I wanted to. Angels are ill-equipped. (lowers his pants, revealing he has no genitalia) See? I'm as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll. You bottom-feeders and your arrogance; you think everybody's just trying to get in your knickers.

— Dogma

I'm an angel. I kill firstborns while their mamas watch. I turn cities into salt. I even, when I feel like it, rip the souls from little girls, and from now till kingdom come, the only thing you can count on in your existence is never understanding why.

— Gabriel, The Prophecy

Andy: April, you're like an angel with no wings.
April: So like a person?

— Parks and Recreation