#v

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ↗

— a headstone in Ireland

#epitaph #mourning #death

You do care a little for me, I know... but nothing to speak of, and you don't love me. I was yours once till death if you'd cared to keep me, but I'm someone else's now... and he's mine in a way that shocks you, but why don't you stop being shocked, and attend to your own happiness. ↗

— E.M. Forster

#love #death

Unfortunately, my army consists of one unreliable criminal, one girl with a disability, and one incredibly foolish young vampire with a tanning issue. I am not confident. ↗

— Rachel Caine

#morganville-vampires #oliver #death

Live or die, but don't poison everything. ↗

— Anne Sexton

#everything #live #poison

Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that's ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell. ↗

— Anne Rice

#death #deserved #hell #karma #lestat

If after I die, people want to write my biography, there is nothing simpler. They only need two dates: the date of my birth and the date of my death. Between one and another, every day is mine. ↗

— Fernando Pessoa

#death #intimacy #life #poetry #privacy

Blood fills my mouth. Fire sears my veins. I choke back a howl. The silver knife slips--the choice is mine. I am death or life. I am salvation or destruction. Angel or demon. I am grace. I plunge in the knife. This is my sacrifice-- I am the monster. ↗

— Bree Despain

#dark-divine #sacrifice #death

What a woman you are,” he murmured, and she heard the emotion in it, the way the Irish thickened just a bit in his voice. And saw it in those vivid eyes when he drew back. “That you would think of this. That you would do this.” He shook his head, kissed her. Like the breath, long and quiet. “I can’t thank you enough. There isn’t enough thanks. I can’t say what this means to me, even to you. I don’t have the words for it.” He took her hands, brought them both to his lips. “A ghra. You stagger me.” He framed her face now, touched his lips to her brow. “You’re the beat of my heart, the breath in my body, the light in my soul. ↗

— J.D. Robb

#in-death-series #love #roarke #romance #death

I became aware that our love was doomed; love had turned into a love affair with a beginning and an end. I could name the very moment when it had begun, and one day I knew I should be able to name the final hour. When she left the house I couldn't settle to work. I would reconstruct what we had said to each other; I would fan myself into anger or remorse. And all the time I knew I was forcing the pace. I was pushing, pushing the only thing I loved out of my life. As long as I could make believe that love lasted I was happy; I think I was even good to live with, and so love did last. But if love had to die, I wanted it to die quickly. It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death; I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck. ↗

— Graham Greene

#anger

I may be alive now, but in a series of moments I won’t be. And let it be said about me: He didn’t waste his time talking to conch shells, but he did listen to what they had to say about the ocean. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#death #wisdom #death