#gel

You and I have a connection that nothing, not on heaven or earth, or even hell, could ever break. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. I’ll hear you… ↗

— Cynthia Hand

#clara #death #hallowed #heaven #mom

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! ↗

— George Gordon Byron

#byron #death-and-dying #destruction-of-sennacherib #war #warriors

You're the right colour for the Angel of Death, Mister Cale. But a little short.' 'I could cut your head off and stand on it. Then I'd be taller. ↗

— Paul Hoffman

#death #left-hand-of-god #the-last-four-things #death

Soft you day, be velvet soft, My true love approaches, Look you bright, you dusty sun, Array your golden coaches. Soft you wind, be soft as silk My true love is speaking. Hold you birds, your silver throats, His golden voice I'm seeking. Come you death, in haste, do come My shroud of black be weaving, Quiet my heart, be deathly quiet, My true love is leaving. ↗

— Maya Angelou

#maya-angelou #poetry #death

The classical man's worst fear was inglorious death; the modern man's worst fear is just death ↗

— Nassim Nicholas Taleb

#evangelism #fear #modern #modern-life #modern-values

I was the apprentice of Robert James Bakker. I'm sure you've heard of him. I am a sorcerer. I was there when Bakker died. We... made it happen. I too have met death, and did not have to peel the bones away from my chest to survive the encounter. I am also, and incidentally, the Midnight Mayor, the blue electric angels, the fire in the wire, the song in the telephones, and we are having a bad week. Be smart; fear us. ↗

— Kate Griffin

#matthew-swift #the-midnight-mayor #the-neon-court #death

It was the first time in a half century that they had been so close and had enough time to look at each other with some serenity and they had seen each other for what they were: two old people, ambushed by death, who had nothing in common except the mercy of an ephemeral past that was no longer theirs but belonged to two young people who had vanished and who could have been their grandchildren. ↗

— Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

#growing-old #death

Christ can forgive you," he whispered, though he didn't believe it. There wasn't a hint of compassion in those ice-blue eyes. "That's grand," she said. Her features became again those of the pleasant brown-haired nurse. She smiled, pulled the pillow from under his head, and covered his face. ↗

— Stephen M. Irwin

#christianity #evil #murder #nurse #suffocation

I’m curious about why there’s so much honor given to death, when there is no honor in losing someone you love. ↗

— Mackie Burt

#death-and-dying #love #romance #death

Where are you taking me?” Andrew demanded, whirling on the Ferryman. His muscles tensed, hands curling in and out of fists. “To my master.” The voice was ghostly, whispers of black ash and death, words cold and detached. He had an idea who that was but asked anyway: “And who is your master?” No answer came. Andrew’s insatiable rage rose up and swallowed his grief like a yawning ocean mouth, the darkest depths surging to the surface to form a mighty tidal wave. He closed the distance and seized the Ferryman’s gaunt wrist. There was no substance, no life beneath the cloak. The Ferryman slowly turned his hooded head, and Andrew found himself looking into the black hole of a self-contained night. The olfactory of decay was a punch in the face. Andrew released the Ferryman’s wrist and hastily stepped back, rocking the boat as he put distance between him and the unnatural wind spilling from the gaping orifice. Andrew shivered, the tiny hairs on his neck saluting. The cloaked head faced forward again, and the wind died away. ↗

— Laura Kreitzer

#fantasy #fiction #key-of-pearl #laura-kreitzer #paranormal-fantasy