#death

It looked good on paper- a little blood, a little death, a small resurrection- but it usually ended in a lot of carnage and an extremely painful, permanent death. ↗

— Bethany Lovell

#death

Death doesn't happen instantly. For a little while, you hover around your body, confused. What you want more than anything is to go home, to be safe, to know you're okay. But my life was over. ↗

— Caroline Flohr

#death-and-grief #flohr #flor #grieving #heaven

There Albine lay, panting, exhausted by love, her hands clutched closer and closer to her heart, breathing her last. She parted her lips, seeking the kiss which should obliterate her, and then the hyacinths and tuberoses exhaled their incense, wrapping her in a final sigh, so profound that it drowned the chorus of roses, and in this culminating gasp of blossom, Albine was dead. ↗

— Émile Zola

#flowers #love #death

It's not that I am not moved by these things, that I don't them in my life. But lately, their power has diminished." - 140 ↗

— Robin Romm

#death-of-a-loved-one #grief #death

That is what the Slave Trade was all about. Not death from poxes and musketry and whippings and malnutrition and melancholy and suicide: death itself. For before the white men came to Guinea to strip-mine field hands. ... black people did not die ... the decedent ... took up residence in an afterworld that was in many ways indistinguishable from his former estate. ↗

— David Bradley

#race #race-america #slave-trade #slavery #death

Il n'y a pas d'expérience de la mort. Au sens propre, n'est expérimenté que ce qui a été vécu et rendu conscient. Ici, c'est tout juste s'il est possible de parler de l'expérience de la mort des autres. C'est un succédané, une vue de l'esprit et nous n'en sommes jamais très convaincus. ↗

— Albert Camus

#death

She turned and walked down the musty, dimly-lighted corridor, along a strip of carpeting that still clung together only out of sheer stubbornness of skeletal weave. Doors, dark, oblivious, inscrutable, sidling by; enough to give you the creeps just to look at them. All hope gone from them, and from those who passed in and out through them. Just one more row of stopped-up orifices in this giant honeycomb that was the city. Human beings shouldn't have to enter such doors, shouldn't have to stay behind them. No moon ever entered there, no stars, no anything at all. They were worse than the grave, for in the grave is absence of consciousness. And God, she reflected, ordered the grave, for all of us; but God didn't order such burrows in a third-class New York City hotel. ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#death #despair #hopeless #loneliness #death

Death loves death, not life. Dying people love to know that others die with them; it is a comfort to learn you are not alone in the kiln, in the grave. ↗

— Ray Bradbury

#death #dying #love #death

Death is merely an illusion of the departed... Just because you cannot physically see the idea of God, doesn't mean that he or she isn't there. Just because you cannot physically see someone that isn't here, doesn't mean that they aren't there. ↗

— Lionel Suggs

#dimensions #illusion #death

Emptiness gnawed at Emma. Could she> face death without fear? If she were to show up at heaven's door tomorrow, would God even recognize her, when it had been so long since she'd bothered to call on Him? ↗

— Julie Klassen

#god #inspirational #death