Funerals, Coffins, and Death. It’s not just a way of life; it’s also for breakfast. Yes, that is the new cereal I’m preparing to launch. Don’t mix it with milk. Pour it on formaldehyde.

Loving a warrior is hard. Dying in the line of duty is an honor to them. They would rather take that road than to dishonor their sacred oath

The sound of him drinking was indescribable—like dirty runoff down a storm drain.

Death is as unexpected in his caprice as a courtesan in her disdain; but death is truer – Death has never forsaken any man

That kind of imagination is why we’re not dead.

I’m not a bad person.

It feels weird, being out in the real world again. Around people just living their lives like normal. Their presence is oppressive. The very fact that the world is going on as usual, like nothing...

There was a warrior once who foughtAgainst man’s subtlest, mightiest foe,And more than valiant deeds he wroughtT’ effect th’ enslaver’s overthrow.But ah! how dread was his campaign,Forc’d in the wilderness to stray,Lone, hungry, stung with...

Death was a quiet evil, unavoidable like the dark night and defenseless sleep and tearful sorrows. It had hunted her down and slithered close, wanting only to smother every last flicker of life.”—from “My Aquarius

I’ll drink your champagne. I’ll drink every drop of it, I don’t care if it kills me.

You are immortal till the very moment you die. Discover it, and stand untouchable.

That’s one of the problems with doing anything for a long time. Staying home, for instance. The longer you stay, the more you believe your identity is wrapped up in the people and things around...

A tip for increased sales or in situations of life or death: Try to always refer to the lady as Miss. or Ms. Using the term: Ma’am could piss her off.

I don’t need today anyway.

Let go of me!” I yelled back.But he was too strong and managed to haul most of me over the rail, enough so that I wasn’t in total danger of falling again.See, here’s the thing....

The dead are way more organized than the living.

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,And walking up the long beach all aloneI heard the waves breaking in measured thunderAs you and I once heard their monotone.Around me were the echoing...

A tired man lay down his headin a dusty room so dim,and for so long his wife did shakeand yell to waken him.Meanwhile his thoughts, his dreams, did stirof sandy, red bullfights,of powder-blasts in the...

I don’t want to be dying. I want to be dead.

The dead and not-yet dead, we are company all together.

I was beginning to agree with the thesis that some truths were better off dead.And buried.

Too easy to lose the way.Too hard to keep from unraveling when there’s nothing to remind you of who youare and where you should be.Another eternity passes in the flick of an eyelash.

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

When other people are grieving, the newspaperman turns efficient.

When I came out into the outside room again, I saw her shoe still lying there, where it had come off in the course of our brief wrestle. It looked so pathetic there by itself...

I don’t want to die in darkness any thicker than this. I want to bring some kind of resolution in my life.

Mothers,fathers,our kind,tell me again that death doesn’t matter.Tell me it’s just a limitation of vision ,a fold of landscape,a deep flax-and-poppy-filled gully hidden on the hill, pleat in our perception a somersault of existence,natural,even beneficent...

I’m sure we all have dreams of leaving at some time in our lives, but when we reach the bottom, most of us go running home.

The natural consequence of being connected to the depth, what I call the soul, or your essence, is the attribute of joy.

This place looks like the last scene in Hamlet.

My mom was there to answer the unanswerable, to make sense of the fault in our life – and we got through that somehow; we came out on the other side. Now I’m 0 for...

I realized that whilst crying over the loss, the living did not seem adequate because they were not my loved one. The room full of strangers hurt me profusely. Even as I saw thousands of...

Doctor: ‘You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong. It makes you weak.’Bruce: ‘Why?’Doctor: ‘How can you move faster then possible, fight longer then possible, without the most powerful impulse of the...

Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.

Well, suppose we remain upon earth, after all? Suppose we bravely accept the death of our dreams at the same time as the death of our bodies? This beyond is decidedly uncertain, quite vague and...

I’m bored with it all. – Last Words

Our sole concern with the long dead is aesthetic

You may say that I am just another outdated old man complaining about progress and the changes of time. But, you see, I have well considered that possibility myself, and am prepared o submit to...

I”, to achieve enlightenment. I can feel a deepening thirst to die, to dissolve into the silence, in my heart and being.

I have grown weary of literature: silence alone comforts me. If I continue to write, it’s because I have nothing more to accomplish in this world except to wait for death. Searching for the word...

As she cried, I could feel growing there, as had once before, a presence between us: the tiny perfect form of Sherry nestled between her parents’ bodies. Our bodies were shaped by her absence, by...

I would rather die in freedom on my way back home than starve to death here.

Perhaps because it seems so appropriate, I don’t notice the rain. It falls in sheets, a blanket of silvery thread rushing to the hard almost-winter ground. Still, I stand without moving at the side of...

Penance is a sacrifice, a voluntary punishment to show remorse for a sin. The more grievous the sin, the greater the self-inflicted suffering. For some, the ultimate penance is death. But for others, it simply...

The reaper does not listen to the harvest.

Suicide leaves everyone feeling guilty.

There is only one true wealth in all the universe–living time.

The portraits, of more historical than artistic interest, had gone; and tapestry, full of the blue and bronze of peacocks, fell over the doors, and shut out all history and activity untouched with beauty and...

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive...

War is organized murder and nothing else