#tin

There is a child - a baby - who long since kicked off her blankets. Her skin is ashen and her mouth open in a perpetual yet silent scream. She isn't old enough to roll over, to sit up, to climb. So she lies there kicking her fat legs against the footboard of the crib, eternally calling for her mother. For food. For flesh. ↗

— Carrie Ryan

#death #erie #haunting #life #zombie-apocalypse

Yea, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten. ↗

— H. Rider Haggard

#death #forget #forgetting #immortality #life

Oftentimes I felt ridiculous giving my seal of approval to what was in reality such a natural thing to do, sort of like reinventing the wheel and extolling its virtues. Had parents' intuition sunk so low that some strange man had to tell modern women that it was okay to sleep with their babies? ↗

— William Sears

#co-sleeping #earthy #parenting #death

When i write, i'm capable of having a girl of my dreams. She may not be perfect, but she's mine. And i'm her role model for God. ↗

— Ariel Seraphino

#girl-of-my-dreams #god #relationships #writing #dreams

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear? ↗

— Jack Kerouac

#beat #death-and-dying #early-stories-and-other-writings #fear-of-death #fleeting-life

And life goes on, which seems kind of strange and cruel when you're watching someone die. But there's a joy and an abundance of everything, like information and laughter and summer weather and so many stories. My mother urges me to write them down because, "You're the last of the Markhams, my love." So I record dates and journeys and personalities and traits and heroes and losers and weaknesses and strengths and I try to capture every one of those people because one day I'll need what they had to offer. ↗

— Melina Marchetta

#diary #journals #dating

I was trying to learn to write, commencing with the simplest things, and one of the simplest things of all and the most fundamental is violent death. ↗

— Ernest Hemingway

#writing #death

I dedicate this to all those who did not live to tell it. And may they please forgive me for not having seen it all nor remembered it all, for not having divined all of it - from The Gulag Archipelago ↗

— Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

#life #truth #writing #death

The world won't end with a bang or a whimper. It'll end with the death screams of a thousand demons and a defiant, carefree, savage, wolfen howl. ↗

— Darren Shan

#destiny #destruction #werewolf #death

This too to remember. If a man writes clearly enough any one can see if he fakes. If he mystifies to avoid a straight statement, which is very different from breaking so-called rules of syntax or grammar to make an efffect which can be obtained in no other way, the writer takes a longer time to be known as a fake and other writers who are afflicted by the same necessity will praise him in their own defense. True mysticism should not be confused with incompetence in writing which seeks to mystify where there is no mystery but is really only the necessity to fake to cover lack of knowledge or the inability to state clearly. Mysticism implies a mystery and there are many mysteries; but incompetence is not one of them; nor is overwritten journalism made literature by the injection of a false epic qulaity. Remember this too: all bad writers are in love with the epic. ↗

— Ernest Hemingway

#writing #death