#de

The death of a real deer at my hands was just a vaporous, remote presence that hovered over the figure of the paper deer forty-five yards away at target six of our archery range, as I tried to hit the heart-lung section marked out in heavy black. ↗

— James Dickey

#hunting #wilderness #death

O fim de uma viagem é apenas o começo de outra ↗

— José Saramago

#death

He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken. ESV ↗

— Anonymous

#death #death

Abstain not! Life and love like night and day offer themselves to us on their own terms, not ours. Accept their bounty while ye may, before we accept by the worms, ↗

— Richard Hovey

#life #love #death

When all that’s left of us is the pure untainted consciousness without form, we’ll know what it means when the last human breath expires. ↗

— Zeena Schreck

#buddha #buddhism #death #left-hand-path #religion

Black Creek Burning: “It was a polite, white lie,” Brie whispered. “I’ll have to remember you think that way,” Nathan said. ↗

— R.T. Wolfe

#black-creek-burning #gardening #murder #romantic-suspense #sweet

God-fucking-damn but he was seriously good-looking. “Have you ever had the stuffed pancakes here? They’re evil. I highly recommend them.” “Heh. The cop is recommending evil,” I said. “Too funny.” To my surprise, Ivanov chuckled. “You’ve discovered my dark side. ↗

— Diana Rowland

#death

I grabbed my napkin and managed to pretend to sneeze which had the added effect of covering up most of my face which was surely completely beet red with embarrassment at this point. Yeah, I was classy and suave like that. Jesus Christ, Angel, get a grip! ↗

— Diana Rowland

#death

What does the absolutely final deadline apply to? What book?" If there was one book that did not cry out for a sequel, it was "Death of a Doge". "Don't you remember what an awful time you had writing that book? ↗

— Martha Grimes

#death

And strange were the tales of the pond in the meadow, And eager we listened with eyes opened wide To Those tales often told by poor Mary the widow, Who lived in a cottage the meadow beside. Play not, my dear boys, near the pond in the meadow, The mermaid is waiting to pull you beneath; Climb not for a bird’s nest, the bough it may sliver, And the mermaid will drag you to darkness and death. ↗

— J.R. Withers

#moon-stealers #science-fiction #death