#eat

OH, THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING IN THE STOCKING THAT MAKES A NOISE, said Death. OTHERWISE, WHAT IS 4:30 A.M. FOR? ↗

— Terry Pratchett

#noise #death

Here be dragons to be slain, here be rich rewards to gain; If we perish in the seeking, why, how small a thing is death! ↗

— Dorothy L. Sayers

#christianity #death #dragons #death

Mom always said I was born to sit in the electric chair, but I'm proving her wrong. I'm going to die on my knees, begging for my life. ↗

— Bauvard

#execution #funny #humor #death

The lucky ones are just born dead. ↗

— Chuck Palahniuk

#death

There's still a thousand places I haven't gone to die. ↗

— Chuck Palahniuk

#death

By its nature, the metropolis provides what otherwise could be given only by traveling; namely, the strange. ↗

— Jane Jacobs

#death

If you heard your lover scream in the next room and you ran in and saw his pinkie on the floor, in a small puddle of blood. You wouldn't rush to the pinkie and say, 'Darling, are you OK? ' No, you'd wrap your arms around his shoulders and worry about the pinkie later. The same holds true if you heard the scream, ran in and saw his hand or -god forbid- his whole arm. But suppose you hear your lover scream in the next room, and you run in and his head is on the floor next to his body. Which do you rush to and comfort first? ↗

— Jeffrey McDaniel

#hunting-for-cherubs #poetry #death

Why aren't you afraid of me? I've seen my death, and you're not it. ↗

— Kim Harrison

#rachel #death

I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel; But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now! ↗

— Alfred Tennyson

#hatred #poetry #death

And she arose from her deathbed in a gossamer gown, with eyes the color of starlight and hair as black as the night. And those who were her captors trembled, for the scent of death and madness emanated from her soul, and yet she was not dead. She moved like the spiders that creep in the treetops, and none could look away. Taking her first captor in hand, she fed deep and ravenous. And so it was that Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, was born from the blood of the dead. ↗

— Yasmine Galenorn

#horror #vampires #death