#ask

Very few beings really seek knowledge in this world. Mortal or immortal, few really ask. On the contrary, they try to wring from the unknown the answers they have already shaped in their own minds -- justifications, confirmations, forms of consolation without which they can't go on. To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner. ↗

— Anne Rice

#courage #daring #knowledge #questions #risk

Better to be a laughing-stock than lose the fort for fear of being one. ↗

— Rosemary Sutcliff

#courage #fear #silence #courage

How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury? ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#casket #death #funeral #heart #loss

She said, 'It's not life or death, the labyrinth.' 'Um, okay. So what is it?' 'Suffering,' she said. 'Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?...Nothing's wrong. But there's always suffering, Pudge. Homework or malaria or having a boyfriend who lives far away when there's a good-looking boy lying next to you. Suffering is universal. It'st the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about. ↗

— John Green

#labyrinth #philosophy #pudge #suffering #death

Never underestimate a girl’s love for her favorite band. Never think even for a minute, that she won’t defend them to her death. Because it’s not just the music that makes that band her favorite. It’s the guys, the gals. It’s the fans. People whom of which she has interacted with thanks to the band. That band might of saved her life, or just made her smile everyday. That band has never broke her heart and has yet to leave her. No wonder she finds such joy in her music. ↗

— Alex Gaskarth

#all-time-low #music #death

You can't just make yourself matter and then die, Alaska, because now I am irretrievably different, and I'm sorry I let you go, yes, but you made the choice. You left me Perhapsless, stuck in your goddamned labyrinth. And now I don't even know if you chose the straight and fast way out, if you left me like this on purpose. And so I never knew you, did I? I can't remember, because I never knew. ↗

— John Green

#looking-for-alaska #perhaps #death

Right, well, he'd been sick for a while and his nurse said to him, 'You seem to be feeling better this morning,' and Isben looked at her and said, 'On the contrary,' and then he died. ↗

— John Green

#death #dying #green #halter #henrik-isben

Nobody's that naive," she muttered. "Nobody's that guileless." "He's from Nebraska." Peabody scanned her pocket unit. "From where?" "Nebraska." Peabody waived a hand, vaguely west.... "They still grow them pretty guileless in Nebraska. I think it's all that soy and corn. ↗

— J.D. Robb

#death

You suck. You suck diseased moose wang, Marcone. ↗

— Jim Butcher

#dresden-files #death

Harvey wasn't interested in the clothes, it was the masks that mesmerized him. They were like snowflakes: no two alike. Some were made of wood and of plastic; some of straw and cloth and papier-mâché. Some were as bright as parrots, others as pale as parchment. Some were so grotesque he was certain they'd been carved by crazy people; others so perfect they looked like the death masks of angels. There were masks of clowns and foxes, masks like skulls decorated with real teeth, and one with carved flames instead of hair. ↗

— Clive Barker

#barker #clive #halloween #harvey #hood