#dead

He grinned. “I was trying to remember all the deadly sins the other day,” he said. “Greed,envy, gluttony, irony, pedantry…” “I’m pretty sure irony isn’t a deadly sin.” “I’m pretty sure it is.” “Lust,” she said. “Lust is a deadly sin.” “And spanking.” “I think that falls under lust.” “I think it should have its own category,” said Jace. “Greed, envy, gluttony, irony, pedantry, lust, and spanking. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#lust #pedantry #spanking #dead

my beerdrunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world. ↗

— Charles Bukowski

#dead

It seems as if Americans like to be the center of attention even after they're dead. ↗

— Hidekaz Himaruya

#attention #dead #hetalia #attention

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. ↗

— N.H. Kleinbaum

#poets #society #poets

She went in the pool," she finished for me. "Ohmigod. She was killed while tweeting. It was Twittercide! ↗

— Gemma Halliday

#gemma-halliday #lol #social-suicide #twitter #twitter

The living are made of nothing but flaws. The dead, with each passing day in the afterlife, become more and more impeccable to those who remain earthbound. ↗

— Anna Godbersen

#flaws #afterlife

The worst wounds, the deadliest of them, aren't the ones people see on the outside. They're the ones that make us bleed internally. ↗

— Sherrilyn Kenyon

#deadliest #heal #hurt #internally #outside

Okay, it's pretty obvious what we're doing here, people. If it's dead - fucking KILL IT ↗

— Robert Kirkman

#zombies #zombies

I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end. Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead. The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface. The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#book #burn #dead #end #fire

We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing. ↗

— George Orwell

#death-and-dying #future #death