#des

Death is the destination we all share, no one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be because death is very likely the single best invention of life. ↗

— Steve Jobs

#life #life-and-death #death

I felt despair. The word’s overused and banalified now, despair, but it’s a serious word, and I’m using it seriously. For me it denotes a simple admixture — a weird yearning for death combined with a crushing sense of my own smallness and futility that presents as a fear of death. It’s maybe close to what people call dread or angst. But it’s not these things, quite. It’s more like wanting to die in order to escape the unbearable feeling of becoming aware that I’m small and weak and selfish and going without any doubt at all to die. It’s wanting to jump overboard. ↗

— David Foster Wallace

#banality #death #despair #dread #ennui

For a girl with such a fat ass, I felt pretty invisible. ↗

— Kody Keplinger

#design

The Chinese used gunpowder to make fireworks for celebrations, and the white man came along and said, Holy shit, we can use this to kill people. What better way to celebrate than that?
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#celebration #chaos #chinese #death #destroy

Death, he felt, was only a kind of warning rather than a desperate and permanent end. ↗

— László Krasznahorkai

#despair #warnings #death

Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#decay #destruction #ruin #death

Only the previous day, Arch had found him in a spirit-dance corral, blistering the creatures to the point of death, such was his need to touch and destroy. ↗

— Frank Beddor

#blister #corral #dance #death #destroy

Between the desire And the spasm, Between the potency And the existence, Between the essence And the descent, Falls the Shadow. ↗

— T.S. Eliot

#despair #life #philosophy #poetry #death

Man cries, his tears dry up and run out. So he becomes a devil, reduced to a monster. ↗

— Kohta Hirano

#desperation #good-and-bad #good-and-evil #grief #hopelessness

He dropped the phone back onto its cradle, began to turn around and felt a sudden ice-cold furrow open up in his side. Strength drained from his legs, and a moment later he sank to his knees. There was warmth now that ran over the initial and persistent cold. Mohammed was confused, and barely noticed the briefcase being removed from his grip. He heard the click of a cell phone opening, and a soft beeping as a number was dialed. 'The package is in my possession,' a female voice said, and the phone clicked shut. ↗

— R.D. Ronald

#death-and-dying #descriptive-prose #death