#death

His theatre was the clouds, where no spectacle repeated itself. On land he was a foreigner. Land for him was stasis, and it pulled him into immobility, which was his image of death.” — , ↗

— Anaïs Nin

#death

So thirsty," Jack groaned. "So worried,"said the frog. I hope we don't starve to death." "Yes,"said Jill, "not starving to death would be nice." "So would not thirsting to death," said Jack "Thirsting isn't even a word," said Jill "It isn't?" "No." "Then what's the word?" "I dont know. You just can't." "Oh." This is, of course, the kind of inane conversation that occurs when people are slowly losing their minds. ↗

— Adam Gidwitz

#death

Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat in this distracted globe. Remember thee? ↗

— William Shakespeare

#ghost #memory #remember #rememberance #death

Here too was the terrifying fixed curve of the infinite, the creeping curve of logic which at least must become the final signpost at the edge of nothing. After that - the deluge. The great white light of annihilation. The bright flash of death... ("Mr. Arcularis") ↗

— Conrad Aiken

#death #infinity #nothing #death

And in the years when your shadow leaned clear across the land as you lay abed nights with your heartbeat mounting to the billions, his invention must let a man drowse easy in the falling leaves like the boys in autumn who, comfortably strewn in the dry stacks, are content to be a part of the death of the world... ↗

— Ray Bradbury

#death

Every day in Africa a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a lion wakes up. It knows that it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death. It doesn’t matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle. When the sun comes up, you better be running. ↗

— Abe Gubegna

#running #death

To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come... ↗

— William Shakespeare

#death-and-dying #hamlet #shakespeare #dreams

He had heard many of his customers talking about 'repetitive strain injury' over the years and he was sure that, if he was capable, he too would suffer this - especially with the industrial tooling he carried around everywhere that he went. ↗

— Stephen Craig

#fantasy #fiction #horror #death

So these things happen, deep in our lives. We do not speak of them. We hide them even from ourselves, but they do not leave us. ↗

— David Malouf

#inspirational #life #memory #death

A true poem is a thing of awe. A true poem is a struggle unto death. A true poem is another land Where one sojourns When one is past deaths door. A true poem is made of words that linger on when all the others in one's life are washed away: one single kernel, but one from which can sprout life all anew. Stream then all over me Arusubanya of the world. Perhaps one day,one day, my mouth will burst asunder to utter but two words for simple souls which,as they grow,will sprout ripe stars which even now I am searching for. ↗

— Trefossa

#suriname #death