#grave

It is exactly the fear of revenge that motivates the deepest crimes, from the killing of the enemy's children lest they grow up to play their own part, to the erasure of the enemy's graveyards and holy places so that his hated name can be forgotten. ↗

— Christopher Hitchens

#crime #fear #graveyards #infanticide #murder

What man ever openly apologizes for slander? It is not so much a feeling of slander as it is that of a massive lie, a misdeed not only to the slandered but also to those manipulated in the process. He has made them all, every one, his enemies, thereupon he is so overwhelmed with guilt that he will deny it until his grave. ↗

— Criss Jami

#deceit #defamation #denial #enemy #feelings

The last to fall were the buildings, distant and solemn, the gravestones for an entire world. ↗

— Dan Wells

#building #gravestone #apocalypse

There aren't any magical words, really. Words just hold the magic. ↗

— Jim Butcher

#grave-peril #harry-dresden #harry-dresden

None can less afford to delay than the aged sinner. Now is the time. Now or never. You have, as it were, one foot already in the grave. Your opportunities will soon be over. Strive, then, I entreat you, to enter in at the strait gate. ↗

— Archibald Alexander

#aged #already #delay #enter #entreat

God has placed no limits to the exercise of the intellect he has given us, on this side of the grave. ↗

— Francis Bacon

#exercise #given #god #grave #intellect

But the gravest difficulty, and perhaps the most important, in poetry meant solely for recitation, is the difficulty of achieving verbal beauty, or rather of making verbal beauty tell. ↗

— Lascelles Abercrombie

#beauty #difficulty #gravest #important #making

In comparing various authors with one another, I have discovered that some of the gravest and latest writers have transcribed, word for word, from former works, without making acknowledgment. ↗

— Pliny the Elder

#another #authors #comparing #discovered #former

Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a grove–no, it was a triad of trees: apple, oak, hazel. And at my feet something that smacked of familiar miens, a stone half buried in a pitch of heather. A stone bearing my name and a date I could hardly remember. A moment passed, another and in those moments I stood numb with gluey feet at the foot of my own grave. For the first time since I’d come to the Faeran Valley, I was alone. And the silence was deafening ↗

— Debi Cimo

#grave #moment #silence #dating

I have no auditory depth perception. She said, “I love you,” and I couldn’t even tell if she was 300 miles away, or 6 feet below my feet and 300 years away.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#auditory #cemetery #death #depth-perception #grave