#ay

Clary felt suddenly annoyed. "When the self-congratulatory part of the evening is over, maybe we could get back to saving my best friend from being exsanguinated to death?" "Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interupted. "No swearing in church. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#church #clary-fray #jace-wayland #swear #death

Seventeen, eh!" said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. "Six years to the day we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?" "Vaguely," said Harry, grinning up at him. "Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?" "I forge’ the details," Hagrid chortled. ↗

— J.K. Rowling

#dursley #hagrid #harry-potter #humor #pig

I'm not afraid of death. It's the stake one puts up in order to play the game of life. ↗

— Jean Giraudoux

#death #game #i #life #order

Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn. ↗

— Mahatma Gandhi

#death #night #rebirth #reincarnation #sleep

To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal. ↗

— Malcolm X

#death

All the windows of my heart I open to the day. ↗

— John Greenleaf Whittier

#heart #i #open #windows

Simon!” The voice was Clary’s. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he’d most loved during life to carry him through the process of death. “Simon, you stupid idiot! I’m over here! At the window!” Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#simon-lewis #death

Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies ↗

— Rick Riordan

#death #delaying #humor #leo #the-mark-of-athena

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. ↗

— Pearl S. Buck

#genius #poem-in-your-pocket-day #death

He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "You cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "It might be fatal." Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you the Magister?" He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#will-herondale #death