#death

More accurately, on the bed and on the table lay various pieces of what had once been a body. Holmes was leaning with his back against the wall, his countenance deathly white. "The door was open," he said incongruously. "I was passing by, and the door was open." "Holmes," I whispered in horror. "The door was open," he said once more, and then buried his face in his hands. ↗

— Lyndsay Faye

#horror #john-watson #sherlock-holmes #death

It was that time of the century when the idea of a gentleman had almost become myth. The Great War had concussed the world. The unbearable news of sixteen million deaths rolled off the great metal drums of the newspapers. Europe was a crucible of bones. ↗

— Colum McCann

#death

I looked at the photo of me and my par­ents, ran my fin­ger­tips along the glass frame. I had just been born. We were still in the hos­pi­tal, and I looked more like a bur­rito with a face than like a baby. ↗

— Darynda Jones

#burrito #family #funny #death

The only dream worth having, I told her, is to dream that you will live while you're alive and die only when you're dead. ↗

— Arundhati Roy

#carpe-diem #dead #death #dream #dying

Our culture's quest to hide death behind a facade of denial has made fools and pretended immortals of us all. Perhaps it would be more helpful and liberating to begin each day by repeating the words of Crazy Horse, "Today is a good day to die. ↗

— Richard Paul Evans

#culture #death #dying #death

Remember back in forty-four when someone killed that pet parrot of yours? What was his name, Reynold? You know, the only friend you ever had? That was me, George. I fucked it to death then fed it to Goshy. ↗

— Will Elliott

#death

Romans and fairies and death dogs, oh my. ↗

— Dani Harper

#paranormal-romance #sexy-men #death

To my surprise, it was a place where my thoughts were the most lucid. I wasn’t bogged down in random trivial details or the luxury of time-consuming over-analysis. This place forced you to live because at any moment, life could be lost. Ramadi forced me to die unto myself. ↗

— M.B. Wilmot

#iraq #iraq-war #overanalysis #ramadi #triviality

Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty. ↗

— Jenny Han

#childhood-memories #eight #memories #nostalgia #death

If I knew how much you loved me, I would’ve shot you sooner. ↗

— William S. Burroughs

#love #death