#de

The bell tolling not for us, it’s time for bluebells. ↗

— Lara Biyuts

#flowers #life-and-death #seasons #death

She was dry, dry inside like a ten-thousand-year-old tomb, with the last of her life barely dampening the dirt underneath. ↗

— Kat Rosenfield

#cry #death #youth #death

Rehv cleared his throat. “What book is that?” The Moor looked up, his almond-shaped eyes focusing with a sharpness Rehv could have done without. “You’re awake.” “What book?” “It’s The Shadow Death Lexicon.” “Light reading. And here I thought you were a Candace Bushnell fan. ↗

— J.R. Ward

#trez #death

Because through the heavy water, I heard the sound of an angel calling my name, calling me to the only heaven I wanted. ↗

— Stephenie Meyer

#death #dying #death

The difference between a non-suicide and an ex-suicide leaving the house for work, at eight o'clock on an ordinary morning: The non-suicide is a little traveling suck of care, sucking care with him from the past and being sucked toward care in the future. His breath is high in his chest. The ex-suicide opens his front door, sits down on the steps, and laughs. Since he has the option of being dead, he has nothing to lose by being alive. It is good to be alive. He goes to work because he doesn't have to. ↗

— Walker Percy

#life #suicide #work #life

To regret the exchange of earthly pleasures for the joys of Heaven, is as if the grovelling caterpillar should lament that it must one day quit the nibbled leaf to soar aloft and flutter through the air, roving at will from flower to flower, sipping sweet honey from their cups, or basking in their sunny petals. If these little creatures knew how great a change awaited them, no doubt they would regret it; but would not all such sorrow be misplaced? ↗

— Anne Brontë

#death #fear #heaven #transformation #change

When a husband loses his wife, they call him a widower. When a wife loses her husband, they call her a widow. And when somebody’s parents die, they call them an orphan. But there is no name for a parent, a grieving mother, or a devastated father who have lost their child. Because the pain behind the loss is so immeasurable and unbearable, that it cannot be described in a single word. It just cannot be described. ↗

— Bhavya Kaushik

#grief #losing-a-child #pain #sad #death

Revenge is never pretty and often leaves you empty. --Alexandria "Dria" McAndrews ↗

— C.J. Ellisson

#death

Era linistitor sa stiu ca seara nu voi mai trai. ↗

— Hermann Hesse

#nihilism #relief-from-pain #suicide #death

When you look at pictures of people you know are dead, there is something different about the eyes. As if they anticipated their particular fate.It is a visceral recognition. I told myself I was getting too fanciful and went to bed. ↗

— John D. MacDonald

#death