Sweetheart, I’ll be a Marine ‘til they bury my cold, dead, decrepit ass in the ground a good fifty or sixty years from now.
Here is a minute. It may be my love is dead, but here is a minute to kneel over the grave and pray by it.
I was reaching for one of the handles when I heard Heidler’s voice from behind me. ‘It would not be wise to enter. It is a bad time to disturb the dead.
You know things are moving. You're changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?
Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
EPITAPH OF JALALUDIN RUMI When we are dead, seek not our tomb in the earth, but find it in the hearts of men.
There are storm clouds before the storm, there are the living before the dead. I need a figurehead, a banner bearer who will announce my arrival to the world.
The sky above the island was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel—which is to say it was a bright, cheery blue.
Come on,” I said a third time, to the approaching darkness, to the figures that beckoned from within it, to the peace that comes at last to every dead thing.
She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor: "Winter is dead.
Live like you're already dead, man. Have a good time. Do your best. Let it all come ripping right through you.
'The Queen Is Dead' is not merely the Smiths' best album, but it is one of those timeless, perfect, inexhaustible artifacts that could only have been made by a gang of sullen, sun-deprived rock & roll boys fighting off adulthood tooth and nail.
A strong hatred is the best lamp to bear in our hands as we go over the dark places of life, cutting away the dead things men tell us to revere.
A common defense among obituary-fanciers such as myself is that the obit is not about death at all. It is about life. This is true since an article about the condition of deadness would make for turgid reading at best.
Authors were shy, unsociable creatures, atoning for their lack of social aptitude by inventing their own companions and conversations.
He's never known anything like it! But then, he has never known anything to write home about, so this is nothing to write home about.
I've seen a dead body, I've seen some pretty gruesome fist fights, I've been a hunter since I was a child, though I don't anymore, I've gutted wild game.
Play not with paradoxes. That caustic which you handle in order to scorch others may happen to sear your own fingers and make them dead to the quality of things.
I would be going until I went over the bounds of reality and was then caught up in a profound wish to be dead without having to go through the shaming defeat of suicide.
Dead tree branches rattled, the cold wind seethed, it prattled of abominations about to unfold. A lone wolf howled, the full moon it prowled, ready for evils untold.
