#de

But I was innocent only because I did not carry firearms. Whoever has witnessed death as I have seen it, men falling, hit by bullets, dying under a clear sky, not knowing sometimes from what direction they were fired upon, could not think himself to be innocent. Nor could I do anything about the killings on either side. It made me feel guilty, as if I had been a participant in all that had happened. I had knowledge, I could not claim to be innocent. ↗

— Jean Arasanayagam

#death

... as we travel again between life and death, Waking and dream, blinking, while layers within layers, None better, none worse, unravel and knit up before us . . . ↗

— Jay Woodman

#dream #layers #life #travel #wake

You laugh as you sing about dying, you drug yourself up, but you can still see clearly, and you die as you break into a fit of laughter, because asi es la vida in this soup of islands stewed in hunger and the desire to be someone else. ↗

— Mayra Santos-Febres

#drugs #laughter #death

Life is a banquet and most poor saps are starving to death! ↗

— Auntie Mame

#mame #rosalind-russell #death

Woolrich had a genius for creating types of story perfectly consonant with his world: the noir cop story, the clock race story, the waking nightmare, the oscillation thriller, the headlong through the night story, the annihilation story, the last hours story. These situations, and variations on them, and others like them, are paradigms of our position in the world as Woolrich sees it. His mastery of suspense, his genius (like that of his spiritual brother Alfred Hitchcock) for keeping us on the edge of our seats and gasping with fright, stems not only from the nightmarish situations he conjured up but from his prose, which is compulsively readable, cinematically vivid, high-strung almost to the point of hysteria, forcing us into the skins of the hunted and doomed where we live their agonies and die with them a thousand small deaths. ↗

— Francis M. Nevins

#cornell-woolrich #doomed #hunted #hysteria #nightmarish

Inspirasi tak mengenal kata mati There is no death for inspiration. ↗

— Skylashtar Maryam

#literary #death

I laughed uneasily. “Jeez, you guys make it sound like I was on the brink of death or something. I just fainted.” (Sabina) ↗

— Jaye Wells

#death

Midnight" The hours glide Like drops of water on a window pane Midnight silence Fear unrolls in the air And the wind hides at the bottom of the well OH It's a leaf We think the earth is going to end Time stirs in the shadow Everyone is asleep A SIGH Inside the house someone has just died ↗

— Vicente Huidobro

#death #fear #midnight #night #shadow

That's a lot of vegetables. "It is, yes, and if you eat them like a good girl..." He lifted the silver lid on another plate, revealed a small pizza, with pepperoni arranged into a smiley face. She tried to give him a stony stare, but the laugh won out. "You think you're cute, don't you, pal?" "Adorable." "In this case, you can have adorable. Ow!" She managed the stony stare when he slapped her hand away from the pizza. "Vegetables first. ↗

— J.D. Robb

#roarke #roarke-humor #death

You deal with me very frankly, and I thank you for it,' said I. 'I will try on my side to be no less honest. I believe these deep duties may lie upon your lordship; I believe you may have laid them on your conscience when you took the oaths of the high office which you hold. But for me, who am just a plain man--or scarce a man yet--the plain duties must suffice. I can think but of two things, of a poor soul in the immediate and unjust danger of a shameful death, and of the cries and tears of his wife that still tingle in my head. I cannot see beyond, my lord. It's the way I am made. If the country has to fall, it has to fall. And I pray God, if this is wilful blindness, that He may enlighten me before too late. ↗

— Robert Louis Stevenson

#honor #death