You are a little soul carrying about a corpse, as Epictetus used to say.

Corpses sour you. They are bad for objectivity.

I had a dream about you. Too many people died that day for us to talk about love. But through the stench of rotting corpses, all I could think about was how beautiful you were...

By death the moon was gathered in Long ago, ah long ago;Yet still the silver corpse must spinAnd with another’s light must glow.Her frozen mountains must forgetTheir primal hot volcanic breath,Doomed to revolve for ages...

…then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of darkness, seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander’s soul.

The face of the dead man was concealed, of course, our customs not being those of the south, where corpses are carried to the grave in open coffins, that they might – one last time...

*Live fast, die young, and, leave a good looking corpse.* is dumb. When dead, looks matters not. (Furthermore, the corpse will only look good for a day, or, twelve.)

Racism is a deadly disease that clings to the soul and rots it until a vile stench that disgusts and irritates the ears of a moral person, is all that is left of a moving...

Know that it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!…Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and...

How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike.

God wasn’t love, couldn’t be love. Because for me, love was a corpse.

More likely, they would just cease to exist.””That’s death.””No, it’s different. Death leaves a corps.

When you die, you want to die a beautiful death. But what makes for a beautiful death is not always clear. To die without suffering, to die without causing trouble to others, to die leaving...

The sooner the rebirth, the prettier the corpse.

Nice jewelry and a boys corpse. Oh you’re so pretty.

In some warped way, having an embalmed body with us made perfect sense.

He had a new girl, and I told him she looked like Marilyn Monroe. He smiled because he thought I meant she was beautiful, and I smiled because I meant she looked like a corpse.

She was dry, dry inside like a ten-thousand-year-old tomb, with the last of her life barely dampening the dirt underneath.

In short, you had that particular ability which I never had: the ability to be alive.

Does Ziploc make body bags? I’ll bet the corpses would stay fresher for longer if they did.

Sam and Caine were left standing side by side, bruised and battered, to stare over Penny’s sickening corpse, at the face of their mother.

I saw the corpse, and I called the cops. But not before I called a 1-800 phone sex number with the dead guy’s phone and credit card.

At sunset, on the river ban, KrishnaLoved her for the last time and left. . .That night in her husband’s arms, Radha feltSo dead that he asked, What is wrong,Do you mind my kisses, love?...

The exhilaration of battle was agreeable to him, but the sight of the dead, with their clay faces, blank eyes, and stiff bodies, which, when not unnaturally shrunken, were unnaturally swollen, had always intolerably affected...

Her cold, dead body was as stiff as a mannequin, but that didn’t stop me from asking her to dance. I was confident that even as a corpse she’d still have more fluidity on the...

Don’t be decieved by your mortality, you’re just a piece of debris, and the sophisticated one lies inside us which was either created or would be destroyed.

Some people experience a life-changing sensation that transforms how they see the world after a near-death experience, but the way I see it, we’re all dying – nay, we’re all dead – and it is...

I’ll steal bodies, not to be Corporal Corpse, but to have access to a never-ending supply of laughter still left over in their lungs.

The mask of art is the means through which corruption is spread. The mask makes vice seem beautiful, turns squalor and nastiness into glamorous thrill, seduces the onlooker into the game – and leaves him...

The New or Future Eve is emptied of all inner life and turned into a shell. The bitter irony in this is that her perfection recalls nothing so much as a corpse.

How came she by her death? How came she there? Was she slain by accident, or had she met with violence? were the questions that pressed upon our thoughts. But we said little then and...