#if

The essential London scenes is a row of low identical houses set around a square. ↗

— Anna Quindlen

#city-life #london #urban-geography #imagination

Life turns, and returns death. Where death digs its claws into the grave only to pull out life, as a baby from a womb; and the recycle of air, the recycle of struggles that never achieve satisfaction, in a constant turning world, of an untuned universe. ↗

— Anthony Liccione

#life #recycle #rotating #satisfaction #struggles

Because it was all I wanted to fucking know. It was all I wanted to know in this fucking world: where did the beautiful boys go? Where did the beautiful boys go? Where the hell did they go? ↗

— Brendan Cowell

#suicide #waste-of-life #beauty

We have time. Fear tangled into her clothes, cinched the shirt, spiraled into the veins. ↗

— E.J. Koh

#death #fantasy #love #red #science-fiction

Love?' Echo was right. All destruction started from love, didn't it? ↗

— E.J. Koh

#death #fantasy #love #red #science-fiction

Her own vague red trail created a livid atmosphere. She was like an avalanche and they were her nostalgia. ↗

— E.J. Koh

#fantasy #love #red #science-fiction #scifi

The red was something none of them could contain. ↗

— E.J. Koh

#death #fantasy #love #red #science-fiction

Metaphysically, his bowl filled and emptied at the same time. Violent and maniacal to push himself so far, he'd both created and destroyed his body's energy. In other words he had complete power, self-sustaining, self-sacrificing power at the origin of himself. ↗

— E.J. Koh

#death #fantasy #love #red #science-fiction

He had forgotten they lived with a rope around their necks - until it cinched. ↗

— E.J. Koh

#death #fantasy #love #red #science-fiction

Life serves the food, and Death always shows up to the banquet, like an univited guest with nothing in hand to contribute, just to devour everything then leave. ↗

— Anthony Liccione

#death #devour #left-with-nothing #life #selfish