#death

Man is biodegradable; his mistakes are not. And sometimes I feel man cannot delay his degradation prior to his death. ↗

— Jaf Liethers

#environment #human #jaf-liethers #man #mankind

I always heard 'whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger' growing up. How so very foolish. In fact, what doesn't kill you is only delaying the inevitable. ↗

— Jeremy Caldwell

#philosophy #death

The mourners clustered around the edge of the grave, paralyzed by the horror of this thing, this first discovery of death that was worse than the death itself. ↗

— Chris Cleave

#death-discovery #death

Lily closed her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs as she made the scariest fall of her life, plunging to her certain death while clinging to her rescuer who really didn’t rescue her at all. ↗

— Missy Lyons

#aliens #falling #rescue #rescues #death

Toughness found fertile soil in the hearts of Palestinians, and the grains of resistance embedded themselves in their skin. Endurance evolved as a hallmark of refugee society. But the price they paid was the subduing of tender vulnerability. They learned to celebrate martyrdom. Only martyrdom offered freedom. Only in death were they at last invulnerable to Israel. Martyrdom became the ultimate defiance of Israeli occupation. ↗

— Susan Abulhawa

#israeli-palestinian-conflict #palestine #death

Looking' his last' upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing 'she' could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with a dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. ↗

— Mark Twain

#mark-twain #tom-sawyer #death

I don't know what happens after we die. It doesn't seem to me like there can be much past this. But I suppose I can conceive that what we make and do can last beyond us. Maybe in a different place, on another plane. ↗

— Ally Condie

#death-and-dying #death

He slides himself inside her, her heart is bursting. The pithy organic organ can't hold all that she feels for this man. When she reaches her peak, her brain supernovas, a small, perfect death. ↗

— MrsAlenko

#love #mass-effect #orgasm #rebirth #sex

Robert held back in the press, letting others go after the rebels fleeing before the charge. Their orders were to slaughter anyone found in the streets to provoke a quick surrender, after which mercy would be granted to those left alive. He had seen death throughout his life, but the duel he’d had with Guy was the closest he’d come to ending someone’s life and even then there had been rules imposed. There were no such boundaries here. The freedom to kill was a dizzying, precipitous feeling. But the veteran knights were pushing in behind him, forcing the issue. With a snarl of frustration at his own hesitation, Robert fixed on one man darting away down an alley and spurred his horse out of the crush in pursuit. ↗

— Robyn Young

#death

One of the most oft-quoted records of the siege, scribbled in pencil over the pages of a pocket address book, is that kept by twelve-year-old Tanya Savicheva: 28 December 1941 at 12.30 a.m. – Zhenya died. 25 January 1942 at 3 p.m. – Granny died. 17 March at 5 a.m. – Lyoka died. 13 April at 2 a.m. – Uncle Vasya died. 10 May at 4 p.m. – Uncle Lyosha died. 13 May at 7.30 a.m. – Mama died. The Savichevs are dead. Everyone is dead. Only Tanya is left. ↗

— Anna Reid

#siege #starvation #war #wwii #death