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#death

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #death




The main floor of Penn Station, early, the first commuters arriving, leaving, the man outstretched on his coat, wide circles of survivors forming. He's half in, half out of his clothes, being kissed and cardio-shocked, though he was likely dead before he landed. This goes on for minutes, minutes more, until the medics unhook the vanished heart, move him onto the cot and cover him with the snow-depth of a sheet and wheel him the fluorescent length of the hall through gray freight doors that open on their own and close at will. ↗


— Stanley Plumly


#death

One thing I must tell you preacher is to let go of the old life you were living before you repented, because they are playing a greater role in your life than your life as a believer.Since you have repented, you need to remove your old self like a garment and put on your new self so that you may not continue to deceive yourself or be living a double lifestyle and be arrested by death or the coming of the LORD. ALMOST THE WHOLE THING Page106 available online at amazon, barnes and noble.... ↗


— James C. Uwandu


#death

were the last words that I wrote for you enough to tell you that in my death the light that shone through my painful darkness was a blinding vision of your eternal smile? cold scalpel's steel whispers tear at my very core as I cling to my memories of you... ↗


— Xavier


#death

Mirtis kvepėjo lietaus lašais pakelės lapuose. ↗


— Hermann Hesse


#lithuanian #death

I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise. ↗


— Chuck Palahniuk


#addicts #death

So there you have it: Nature is a rotten mess. But that's only the beginning. If you take your eyes off it for one second, it will kill you. Thorns, insects, fungus, worms, birds, reptiles, wild animals, raging rivers, bottomless ravines, dry deserts, snow, quicksand, tumbleweeds, sap, and mud. Rot, poison and death. That's Nature." "It's a wonder you even step outside of your cabin," I said. "My bravery exceeds my good sense," he said. ↗


— Lee Goldberg


#nature #phobia #death

In March of that year, I saw a man named Paul Barkley shot to death. It happened late at night in the parking lot of a café in Santa Rosa called Galileo’s. / Teller: A Novel ↗


— Frederick Weisel


#mystery #teller #weisel #death

Where did my friend go? Was there a place they all gathered, the lost and self destructive? Was there a room they put them in? Necks burnt with rope or holes in their skulls. Beach-water bloated. I will know this at the end of my conversation with life. I will speak and laugh until my tongue falls out and then I will know this. I will know because he will tell me when I see him. How will I enter the theatre? With a hole in my head or exploded by sea. Wrists. ↗


— Brendan Cowell


#suicide #death

I remember that day in early May after Le Vesconte's and Private Pilkington's brief joint burial service, one of the men suggested that we name the small spur of land where they were buried "Le Vesconte Point," but Captain Crozier vetoed that idea, saying that if we named every place where one of us might end up buried after the dead person there, we'd run out of land before we ran out of names. ↗


— Dan Simmons


#death #francis-rawdon-moira-crozier #death

From that evening, Swann understood that the feeling which Odette had once had for him would never revive, that his hopes of happiness would not be realised now. And the days on which, by a lucky chance, she had once more shewn herself kind and loving to him, or if she had paid him any attention, he recorded those apparent and misleading signs of a slight movement on her part towards him with the same tender and sceptical solicitude, the desperate joy that people reveal who, when they are nursing a friend in the last days of an incurable malady, relate, as significant facts of infinite value: "Yesterday he went through his accounts himself, and actually corrected a mistake that we had made in adding them up; he ate an egg to-day and seemed quite to enjoy it, if he digests it properly we shall try him with a cutlet to-morrow,"--although they themselves know that these things are meaningless on the eve of an inevitable death. ↗


— Marcel Proust


#eggs #love #death






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