I’m good at reading people, lexi. When we’re together, I know what you like and what you don’t. I know what you think you don’t like and are scared to try. I know how to push you further than you’re used to.” allowing that to sink in a moment,
i tell her, “i will spank you. I will be rough with you. I will push you to your limits. But I promise that if you give it a chance, you’ll enjoy taking it as much I like to deliver it.

There are whole months at a time when my head is so full of ideas that I wake in the middle of the night and lie in the dark telling myself stories. There are also long, dark nights when I just know I’ll never write another word: I’m finished, empty, a husk… Oh dear, yes, twitch, yawn, how I’ve suffered insomnia for my art.

If I could eat your p*ssy all day, every day, i’d f*ckin’ find a way to make it my job.” “i moan loudly. He growls and sucks in perfect rhythm.

I’m a think gamer with twitch tendencies.

Every time I hear a politician mention the word ‘stimulus,’ my mind flashes back to high school biology class, when I touched battery wires to a dead frog to make it twitch.

I think that Amazon made an incredible play with the Twitch purchase.

One of my strengths is my explosive power. Especially at the start line, where you have to accelerate faster than your competitor. I train for that by lifting barbells. It helps your hips thrust and your muscles twitch faster, and it builds strength. But I don’t do too much gym work because I don’t want to bulk up.

If you told me to sit in a room, and you had a million dollars cash stacked right there and said, ‘Don’t move, don’t twitch, don’t do anything,’ without a doubt, the million dollars would be mine.

I don’t do well with being threatened. And I definitely don’t take orders. But you’ll learn all this. Eventually. I get that I know you better than you know yourself, but there’s a few things you should know about me. And i’ll make it easy for you.” mimicking my pointing to my fingers, he points to his index finger. “number one, you’ll be here because you want to be here, not because I forced you. Ever.” pointing to his middle finger, “number two, this closet is yours, and I expect you to use whatever is in there, down to your drawers.” pointing back to his index finger, “number three, you’re so f*cking hot when you get worked up that I would really like for you to suck my c*ck. And when I say I would really like that, I mean suck my c*ck, lexi. Now.

Sorry, there’s nothing like a screaming baby to make a mother twitch.

I need to walk away from you.”
his nose runs up the length of mine and my eyes flutter closed. His bottom lip barely touches my top one as he whispers back, “what makes you think i’ll let you, alexa?.

My workouts are based on very heavy, fast movements using weights, the science behind it being that the faster you move a weight, the more fast twitch fibres you rip and then repair.

Monsters don’t always lurk in the shadows. Sometimes they hide in plain sight.

Amazon’s ‘Twitch’ appears to be creating a service that operates like Twitter.

Wrestling has to be more aggressive. It has to be bigger; it has to translate to the back of a football stadium. With acting, when that camera is up close, they can see your nose hairs twitch, and you have to pull back everything for it not to look clownish. There is that different mindset.

A goal of Twitch is to be wherever gamers are, whether it’s on laptops and handheld devices or integrated into gaming consoles and software.

At college I’d seen my dead frog’s limbs twitch under some applied stimulus or other – seen, but hadn’t believed. Didn’t dream of thinking beyond or around what I saw.

Sometimes I tic or twitch or cough, and it’s a very public thing.

Our app for Xbox 360 brings Twitch video to the television and into the living room of millions of Xbox Live members for the first time. The app will let every Xbox Live gamer find and watch streams of their favorite games from their couch.

The way we’re attached to our phones these days, they buzz and twitch in our pockets, and we have to look and see if it was a text, a voicemail, or an e-mail. We’re almost like lab rats. I tried to eschew the whole cell phone theory until I had kids; then, I had to be reachable at all times.

Twitch is a platform. Switch it on, and you’ll find thousands of channels of pure gameplay rolling around with people talking in the background. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll also find people talking on camera, with sets built like an actual talk show, and schedules of events posted at the bottom of the web page.

With YouTube streaming and Twitch and all that, you can just hop on on any given night and play videogames and have people come watch you. And even if you’ve only got 400 people watching your stream, that’s more people than would see my comedy if I went to UCB.

I don’t know, I feel desperate when I sing. And I look desperate – it feels like I’m singing for my life, which makes me twitch, if that makes sense.

No one touches you. You got that? as long as I want you, no one else gets you, and after i’m done with you…” he licks my jawline. My eyes flutter. He presses his erection into my thigh. “…you’ll be forever unsatisfied. No one will ever take care of you the way I can. The way I know you want it. I know what you need, lexi, even if you don’t know it yourself. But i’ll teach you.

Living next to you is in some ways like sleeping with an elephant. No matter how friendly and even-tempered is the beast, if I can call it that, one is affected by every twitch and grunt.

The Twitch community loves watching video games, chatting, and broadcasting. The average viewer watches over an hour and a half of video each day. Over two-thirds of our logged-in users chat each day.

Tourette’s has always been a tough one for many to digest because of its seeming irrationality: ‘Why do you have to twitch or make noises? You seem normal, with no physical defects.’ It’s next to impossible to answer without living it.

Given the huge number Xbox owners and how many of them love gaming spectatorship, it’s a natural fit to bring the Twitch experience to the 360.

Obviously, doing TV and doing theater are completely different because they’re two totally different mediums. On stage, you worry about your voice and how you move physically. On TV, something like an eye twitch is what they could be looking for from you because it’s so contained.

Fame comes with its own standard. A guy who twitches his lips is just another guy with a lip twitch – unless he’s Humphrey Bogart.

Twitch launched in June of 2011, and our growth ever since has exceeded even my expectations, which were not small. A year and a half later, the community of broadcasters and viewers has multiplied hundreds of percent.

What’s your deal?” I asked in the hallway after class. “i know you did that.”

he shrugged. “so?”
… “that was rude, daemon. You embarrassed him.” … “and I thought using your … Stuff would draw them here?”
… “that was barley a blip on the map. That didn’t even leave a trace on anyone.”
he lowered his head until the edges of his dark curled brushed my cheek. I was caught between wanting to crawl into my locker or crawl into him. “besides, I was doing you a favor.”
i laughed. “and how was that doing me a favor?”
… “studying math wasn’t what he had in mind.”
that was debatable, but I decided to play along … “and what if that’s the case?”
“you like simon?” his chin jerked up, anger flashing in his emerald eyes. “you can’t possibly like him.”
… “are you jealous? … Your jealous of simon?” I lowered my voice. “of a human? for shame, daemon.

Holy hawt chemisty, batman!.

I grinned at daemon and held up a bulb that was so green it almost matched his eyes. I decided it was going to be his bulb.

What kind of motel sells condoms?”
“my favorite kind of motel?.

Cupping my cheeks, he exhaled a soft groan, and his lips scorched mine as he deepened the kiss until we both were breathless from its intensity. Daemon moved as close as he could with the chair between us. Gripping his arms, I held onto him, wanting him closer. The chair prevented all but our lips and hands from touching. Frustrating.
move, I ordered restlessly.
it trembled under my foot, and then the heavy oak chair slid out from under me, dodging our leaning bodies. Unprepared for the sudden void, daemon lurched forward, and I was unable to carry the unexpected weight. I collapsed backward, bringing daemon along with me.
the full contact of his body, flush against mine, sent my senses into chaotic overdrive. His tongue swept over mine as his fingers splayed across my cheeks. His hand slid down my side, gripping my hip as he urged me closer. The kisses slowed and his chest rose as he drank me in.
with one last lingering exploration, he lifted his head and smiled down at me.
my heart skipped a beat as he hovered over me with an expression that tugged deep in my chest. He moved his finger back up, along my cheek, trailing an invisible path to my chin.
“i didn’t move that chair, kitten.”
“i know.”
“i’m assuming you didn’t like where it was?”
“it was in your way,” I said. My hands were still curled around his arms.
“i can see that.” daemon smoothed a fingertip over the curve of my bottom lip before taking my hand, pulling me up.

Coco a spus, când vorbesc despre eleganță, vorbesc despre lux. Luxul trebuie să rămână invizibil, dar trebuie să se simtă. Luxul este simplu; este opusul complicației.
luxul este o necesitate care începe acolo unde se sfârșesc necesitățile.
unii oameni cred că luxul este opusul sărăciei. Nu este așa. El este opusul vulgarității. Luxul este opusul prestigiului.

He hasn’t even eaten at olive garden, so I doubt he’s a connoisseur of hotels.” – kat
“no olive garden? man, we’ve got to get that boy some endless breadsticks and salad. Travesty.” – daemon.

I didn’t tell you this because i’m sure you would’ve changed your mind about the dress.”
“what?” I frowned. “does it make my butt look big?”
she laughed. “no. You looked stunning in it.”
“then what’s the deal?”
her smile turned downright mischievous. “oh, you know, just that the color red is daemon’s favorite.

Remind me,” he paused, drawing in a stuttered gasp, “to never piss you off again. Christ, are you secretly a ninja?.

My palms itched to have a close encounter of the b*tch-slap kind with his face.

Something on a line, it’s discord and rhyme – whatever, whatever, la la la – mouth is alive, all running inside, and i’m hungry like the -” warmth spread down my neck.
“it’s actually,’i howl and I whine. I’m after you,’ and not blah or whatever.

But no matter where I went, what I was running from would still be with me—kat. She wasn’t just back in the house, in that bed. She was with me now, inside me. And there was no outrunning that.

I bet you think things through, right? accept candy
from strangers and get into vans with a sign that reads free kittens?.

My heart- dammit– my heart stopped in my chest as I stared at them. He had me by the throat because he had my whole world in his hands. I said one word I thought i’d never utter to the b*st*rd.
“please.” I swallowed hard, but the words came out easier than I could’ve ever imagined. “please don’t hurt her.”
“you’d beg for a human who wouldn’t do the same for you?”
“i’d do anything for her.”
“and I would do anything for him.” kat gasped out.

Will you show me what you really look like? you don’t sparkle, do you?.

I hate you and your freaky alien powers.

Beautiful face. Beautiful body. Horrible attitude. It was the holy trinity of hot boys.

Sometimes…” I stared at him, blinking back wetness. “sometimes you say the most amazing things.”
“and I do love the sight of my hands on your *ss, too.

In today’s life, luxury is sensuality.

Kitten?”
“yeah?”
his eyes were beautiful when they met mine, luminous and clear, and a long moment stretched out between us. “i love you.

I want to marry you because i’m in love with you, kat. I will always be in love with you. That’s not going to change today or two weeks from now. I will be just as in love with you in twenty years as I am today.

So the dickhead had a name. Daemon—seemed fitting. And of course his sister would be as attractive as him. Why not? welcome to west
virginia, the land of lost models.

Seriously? kissing her right now is what we need to be doing when we have pissed-off aliens on us?”
“kissing her is always the right thing to do.

Thanks,” I muttered and added under my breath, “douchebag.”

he laughed, deep and throaty. “now that’s not very ladylike, kittycat.”

i whipped around. “don’t ever call me that,” I snapped.

“it’s better than calling someone a douchebag, isn’t it?” he pushed out the door. “this has been a stimulating visit. I’ll cherish it for a long time to come.”

okay. That was it. “you know, you’re right. How wrong of me to call you a douchebag. Because a douchebag is too nice of a word for you,” I said, smiling sweetly. “you’re a dickhead.”

“a dickhead?” he repeated. “how charming.”

i flipped him off.

Seriously, though, the bouncer won’t be a problem. I think he liked me.” – daemon
“w-w-what?” – katy
“i think he liked me, like, really liked me.” – daemon
“your ego knows no limit, you know that?.” – katy
“you’ll see. I know these kinds of things.” – daemon.

The die has been cast.

This guy was flipping my b*tch switch like nothing else.

Swimming was the last thing I wanted to do. Drowning him? maybe.

I tried to push down my anger. One thing I hated more than daemon’s douche-nozzle side was him telling me what to do. “you don’t own me, daemon.”
“it’s not about ownership, you little nut.”
“nut?” I glared at him. “i wouldn’t call me names when I have a knife in my hand.

Why are you such an *ss?” the words came out before I could think twice.
“everyone has to excel at something, right?”
“well, you’re doing a great job.

For a moment, I pretended. Not that we weren’t two different species, because I didn’t see him that way, but that we actually liked each other.

and then he shifted and rolled. I was on my back, and he was still on the move. His face burrowed into the space between my neck and shoulder, nuzzling. Sweet baby jesus…warm breath danced over my skin, sending shivers down my body. His arm was heavy against my stomach, his leg between mine, pushing up and up. Scorched air fled my lungs.

daemon murmured in a language I couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it sounded beautiful and soft. Magical. Unearthly.

i could’ve woken him up but for some reason I didn’t. The thrill of him touching me was far stronger than anything else.

his hand was on the edge of the borrowed shirt, his long fingers on the strip of exposed flesh between the hem on the shirt and the band of the worn pajama bottoms. And his hand inched up under the shirt, across my stomach, where it dipped slightly. My pulse went into cardiac territory. The tips of his fingers brushed my ribs. His body moved, his knee pressed against me.

i gasped.

daemon stilled. No one moved. The clock on the wall ticked.

and I cringed.

You haven’t locked yourself in any rooms or rocked in any corners, right?”
i rolled my eyes and began walking again. “no daemon, but thanks for making sure i’m mentally sound and all.

Oh, yeah.” carissa nodded. “they were googley-eyed in class on friday. It was pretty steamy, the whole ‘i’m
screwing you with my eyes’ thing they had going on.” I choked on my drink. “that was not what we were doing. We were talking!.

I thinks its cute that you call my house home. By the way, it is my house. My name is on the deed. – daemon black.

I can help katy,” blake wheezed. “good enough for you?”
“what?” I demanded, dropping my hands.
“yeah, see, you saying her name alone makes me want to kill you. So, no, not good enough for me.

Do you… Feel anything around me?”
“other than what I felt this morning when I saw how good you looked in those jeans?”
“daemon.” I sighed, trying to disregard the girl in my that screamed, he noticed me! “i’m being serious.

You look like you got more of a bath than the car. I never
thought washing a car would be so hard, but after watching you for the last fifteen minutes, i’m convinced it should be an olympic sport.

Daemon: I checked out your blog.
katy: stalking me again, I see. Do I need to get a restraining order?
daemon: in your dreams, kitten. Oh wait, i’m already starring in those, aren’t i?
katy: nightmares, daemon. Nightmares.

God, I loved daemon.

The day my internet was hooked up was better than having a hot guy check out my butt and ask for my phone number.

Daemon was suddenly in front of me. I took an involuntary step back. “do you think I didn’t enjoy kissing you? that I haven’t thought about it every second since then? and I know you have. Just admit it.”
in the pit of my stomach, tight coils thrummed. “what is the point of this?”
“have you?”
“oh, for crap’s sake, yes, I have. I do! do you want me to write it down for you? send you an e-mail or a text? will that make you feel better?”
daemon arched a brow. “you don’t need to be sarcastic.

Crossing the room, he stopped infront of me. “i’m not going to bite.”
“that’s good.”
“unless you want me to,” he said with a devilish grin.

Aliens—if they exist—are little green men with big eyes and spindly arms or…or giant insects or something like a lumpy
little creature.” daemon let out a loud laugh. “et?”
“yes! like et, asshole. I’m so glad you find this funny.

I was clenching the steering wheel like a granny, but driving like I was trying out for nascar.

Surprise widened his eyes as he stepped back. “caving in so easily?”
“caving in?” I laughed without feeling. “i just want you out of my face.”
daemon chuckled deeply. “keep telling yourself that, kitten.”
“keep using your ego steroids.

I didn’t eat all of it.”

“oh, so it ate itself?” dee shrieked so loudly I thought I heard the rafters in the ceiling shake. “did the spoon ate it? oh wait, I know. The carton ate it.”

“actually, I think the freezer ate it.

I’ve always found that the most beautiful people, truly beautiful inside and out, are the ones who are quietly unaware of their effect.” his eyes searched mine intently, and for a moment we stood there toe to toe. “the ones who throw their beauty around, waste what they have? their beauty is only passing. It’s just a shell hiding nothing but shadows and emptiness.

I don’t think he meant to kiss me,” I said finally.
“what? did he slip and fall on your mouth? those things are known to happen.

I watched her until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I then counted each breath she took until I could no longer remember what the last number was. And when that happened, I repeated her name, over and over again, until it was the last thing I thought before I slipped into oblivion.

How long have you been standing there?”
“just long enough to see you give daemon the middle finger.”
“he deserved it.

I’m game for anything with you, daemon black.

And this is why you don’t want me to be friends with dee, because you were afraid that i’d find out the truth?”
“that, and you’re a human. Humans are weak. They bring us nothing but trouble.”
my eyes narrowed. “we aren’t weak. And you’re on our planet. How about a little respect, buddy.”
amusement flickered in his emerald eyes. “point taken.

The human body when kept in an indoor environment of low lux light will not realize that it is daytime, as it cannot sense the increasing levels of daylight that the genetics are accustomed to. As such, by late morning your body may start sending a signal for you to sleep!.

You don’t look like an alien!’ it seemed important to point that out.

he arched a brow. ‘and what do aliens look like?’

‘not…not like you,’ I sputtered. ‘they aren’t gorgeous–‘

‘you think i’m gorgeous?’ he smiled.

If she was mine, i’d cherish every inch of her. And I wanted to. Now.

I was feeling the height of bitchiness.

Ash is going to kick your *ss, daemon.”
daemon’s grin went up a notch. “nah, she likes my *ss too much for that.

Kat tipped her head back, meeting my stare. Her throat worked on her next words. “i think I might love you.”
air punched out of my lungs. I held her tight, and I knew right then I would burn down the whole universe for her if I had to.
i would do anything to keep her safe. Kill. Heal. Die. Anything. Because she was my everything.

I am in touch with a company that hopes to replicate my voice. However, they are not replicating my original voice – if they did that, I would sound like a man in his 20s, which would be very strange! They are actually trying to replicate the synthesizer that sits on my wheelchair.

The unnatural and the strange have a perfume of their own.

Thirty was so strange for me. I’ve really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.

If we are alone, we become more alone. Life is strange.

Almost everything strange washes up near miami.

Dogmas are collective conceptual prisons. And the strange thing is that people love their prison cells because they give them a sense of security and a false sense of ‘I know.’ Nothing has inflicted more suffering on humanity than its dogmas.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

A commodity appears at first sight an extremely obvious, trivial thing. But its analysis brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties.

The funny thing about the heart is a soft heart is a strong heart, and a hard heart is a weak heart.

We human beings are strange creatures and still reserve the right to think for ourselves.

I had crossed the line. I was free; but there was no one to welcome me to the land of freedom. I was a stranger in a strange land.

Tis strange,-but true; for truth is always strange;
stranger than fiction: if it could be told,
how much would novels gain by the exchange!
how differently the world would men behold!.

From childhood’s hour I have not been
as others were; I have not seen
as others saw; I could not bring
my passions from a common spring.
from the same source I have not taken
my sorrow; I could not awaken
my heart to joy at the same tone;
and all I loved, I loved alone.
then- in my childhood, in the dawn
of a most stormy life- was drawn
from every depth of good and ill
the mystery which binds me still:
from the torrent, or the fountain,
from the red cliff of the mountain,
from the sun that round me rolled
in its autumn tint of gold,
from the lightning in the sky
as it passed me flying by,
from the thunder and the storm,
and the cloud that took the form
(when the rest of heaven was blue)
of a demon in my view.

Politics doesn’t make strange bedfellows – marriage does.

There are two factors in American politics that may seem strange to Europeans: race and religion.

It is strange to be known so universally and yet to be so lonely.

It’s strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.

Quiet people always know more than they seem. Although very normal, their inner world is by default fronted mysterious and therefore assumed weird. Never underestimate the social awareness and sense of reality in a quiet person; they are some of the most observant, absorbent persons of all.

Dare to differ.

I think it’s great when stories are dark and strange and weirdly personal.

All things are strange which are worth knowing.

I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet, strange, I am ungrateful to those teachers.

Some tiny creature, mad with wrath, is coming nearer on the path.

It seems strange that bears, so fond of all sorts of flesh, running the risks of guns and fires and poison, should never attack men except in defense of their young. How easily and safely a bear could pick us up as we lie asleep! Only wolves and tigers seem to have learned to hunt man for food, and perhaps sharks and crocodiles.

It is not that the girl is unfit for everything, it is that she is not of this world.

Strange how complicated we can make things just to avoid showing what we feel!.

Rome – the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.

Those who are not shocked when they first come across quantum theory cannot possibly have understood it.

My experience of malaria was just taking anti-malarials, which give you strange dreams, because I don’t want to get malaria.

They wore their strange beauty like war paint.

When you get lost in a really strange place,
nothing is more comforting than found your
friend whom you trust and can show the way.

Computers seem a little too adaptively flexible, like the strange natives, odd societies, and head cases we study in the social sciences. There’s more opposable thumb in the digital world than I care for; it’s awfully close to human.

She blinked. “hmm? oh, don’t care. What did anubis look like to you?”
“what did… He looked like a guy. So?”
“a good-looking guy, or a slobbering dog-headed guy?”
“i guess… Not the dog-headed guy.”
“i knew it!” sadie pointed at me as if she’d won an argument.
“good-looking. I knew it!”
and with a ridiculous grin, she spun around and skipped into the house.
my sister, as I may have mentioned, is a little strange.

Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?
some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.

How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!

It was strange, in a way, because there were no ideas involved in the laser that weren’t already known by somebody 25 years before lasers were discovered. The ideas were all there; just, nobody put it together.

She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when you’re swimming and you want to put your feet down on something solid, but the water’s deeper than you think and there’s nothing there.

Isn’t it strange that I who have written only unpopular books should be such a popular fellow?

The beautiful is always strange.

You say freak, I say unique.

I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid.

All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways.

Creative people are often found either disagreeable or intimidating by mediocrities.

Human beings are born solitary, but everywhere they are in chains – daisy chains – of interactivity. Social actions are makeshift forms, often courageous, sometimes ridiculous, always strange. And in a way, every social action is a negotiation, a compromise between ‘his,’ ‘her’ or ‘their’ wish and yours.

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

It is very strange that the years teach us patience – that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.

It’s strange how time can make a place shrink, make its strangeness ordinary.

It would astonish if not amuse the older citizens to learn that I (a strange, friendless, uneducated, penniless boy, working at ten dollars per month) have been put down as the candidate of pride, wealth, and aristocratic family distinction.

I am not what you see and hear.

It is the strange fate of man, that even in the greatest of evils the fear of the worst continues to haunt him.

But please remember: this is only a work of fiction. The truth, as always, will be far stranger.

Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.

They certainly give very strange names to diseases.

This is the strangest life I have ever known.

As for doing good; that is one of the professions which is full. Moreover I have tried it fairly and, strange as it may seem, am satisfied that it does not agree with my constitution.

Not only is the universe stranger than we think, it is stranger than we can think.

Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.

Bein’ a soldier is not hard. If it was, soldiers would not be able to do it.

Even in times of trauma, we try to maintain a sense of normality until we no longer can. That, my friends, is called surviving. Not healing. We never become whole again … We are survivors. If you are here today… You are a survivor. But those of us who have made it thru hell and are still standing? we bare a different name: warriors.

A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon.

Dad, how do soldiers killing each other solve the world’s problems?.

Only happy people have nightmares, from overeating. For those who live a nightmare reality, sleep is a black hole, lost in time, like death.

No soldier outlives a thousand chances.

Everyone’s a knucklehead at one point or another.

A soldier is he whose blood makes the glory of the general.

…it is a proud privilege to be a soldier – a good soldier … [with] discipline, self-respect, pride in his unit and his country, a high sense of duty and obligation to comrades and to his superiors, and a self confidence born of demonstrated ability.

The music at a wedding procession always reminds me of the music of soldiers going into battle.

Look now — in all of history men have been taught that killing of men is an evil thing not to be countenanced. Any man who kills must be destroyed because this is a great sin, maybe the worst we know. And then we take a soldier and put murder in his hands and we say to him, “use it well, use it wisely.” we put no checks on him. Go out and kill as many of a certain kind or classification of your brothers as you can. And we will reward you for it because it is a violation of your early training.

We came to realise – first with astonishment, then bitterness, and finally with indifference – that intellect apparently wasn’t the most important thing…not ideas, but the system; not freedom, but drill. We had joined up with enthusiasm and with good will; but they did everything to knock that out of us.

Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer. No, no, I was neither. Ladies and gentleman of the jury, the majority of sex offenders that hanker for some throbbing, sweet-moaning, physical but not necessarily coital, relation with a girl-child, are innocuous, inadequate, passive, timid strangers who merely ask the community to allow them to pursue their practically harmless, so-called aberrant behavior, their little hot wet private acts of sexual deviation without the police and society cracking down upon them. We are not sex fiends! we do not rape as good soldiers do. We are unhappy, mild, dog-eyed gentlemen, sufficiently well integrated to control our urge in the presence of adults, but ready to give years and years of life for one chance to touch a nymphet. Emphatically, no killers are we. Poets never kill.

Military men are just dumb, stupid animals to be used as pawns in foreign policy.

That’s a nice song,” said young sam, and vimes remembered that he was hearing it for the first time.
“it’s an old soldiers’ song,” he said.
“really, sarge? but it’s about angels.”
yes, thought vimes, and it’s amazing what bits those angels cause to rise up as the song progresses. It’s a real soldiers’ song: sentimental, with dirty bits.
“as I recall, they used to sing it after battles,” he said. “i’ve seen old men cry when they sing it,” he added.
“why? it sounds cheerful.”
they were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought vimes. You’ll learn. I know you will.

There has seldom if ever a shortage of eager young males prepared to kill and die to preserve the security, comfort and prejudices of their elders, and what you call heroism is just an expression of this simple fact; there is never a scarcity of idiots.

Every soldier must know, before he goes into battle, how the little battle he is to fight fits into the larger picture, and how the success of his fighting will influence the battle as a whole.

Every citizen should be a soldier. This was the case with the greeks and romans, and must be that of every free state.

No time to spare: the expression assumed its full significance, as so many expressions do in wartime.

Then there was the war, and I married it because there was nothing else when I reached the age of falling in love.

I’m fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in.

To be heroic is to be courageous enough to die for something; to be inspirational is to be crazy enough to live a little.

You can’t get the blood out.

The army consists of the first infantry division and eight million replacements.

I know what i’m capable of; I am a soldier now, a warrior. I am someone to fear, not hunt.

America without her soldiers would be like god without his angels.

There were many, many times thereafter that don regretted having enlisted – but so has every man who ever volunteered for military service.

That is what death is like. It doesn’t matter what uniforms the soldiers are wearing. It doesn’t matter how good the weapons are. I thought if everyone could see what I saw, we would never have war anymore.

Ten soldiers wisely led will beat a hundred without a head.

Old soldiers never die; they just fade away.

Within the soul of each vietnam veteran there is probably something that says “bad war, good soldier.” only now are americans beginning to separate the war from the warrior.

The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.

Kropp on the other hand is a thinker. He proposes that a declaration of war should be a kind of popular festival with entrance-tickets and bands, like a bull fight. Then in the arena the ministers and generals of the two countries, dressed in bathing-drawers and armed with clubs, can have it out on themselves. Whoever survives the country wins. That would be much simpler and more than just this arrangement, where the wrong people do the fighting.

Lovely was my compliment. Could you not come up with your own?”
“lord paen said compliment her, he did not say we had to be creative about it,” the second man pointed out with a shrug.

A handful of soldiers is always better than a mouthful of arguments.

You may be sensitive inside, but what I see on the outside is a soldier.

I have gone to war and now I can issue my complaint. I can sit on my porch and complain all day. And you must listen. Some of you will say to me: you signed the contract, you crying b*tch, and you fought in a war because of your signature, no one held a gun to your head. This is true, but because I signed the contract and fulfilled my obligation to fight one of america’s wars, I am entitled to speak, to say, I belong to a f*cked situation.

The courage of a soldier is heightened by his knowledge of his profession.

A soldier lives always for the next battle, because he knows that before it arrives impossible changes can occur in his favor.

Soldiers can sometimes make decisions that are smarter than the orders they’ve been given.

The problems I had existed before I did, and I discovered them.

Dear life,

i have been living alone for the last four years. I am familiar with my loneliness. And sometimes I feel like a soldier who can survive without love or poetry too! I am used to leading this hard life!

yours sincerely,
mr. Writer.

I’ll tell you what i’m fighting for. Not for england, nor her allies, nor any patriotic cause. It’s all come down to the hope of being with you..

If our soldiers are not overburdened with money, it is not because they have a distaste for riches; if their lives are not unduly long, it is not because they are disinclined to longevity.

With courage and character, American soldiers continue to put themselves on the line to defend our freedom, and so many have paid the ultimate sacrifice.

It is not the dead rather the ones who lives through war have seen the dreadful end of the war, you might have been victorious, unwounded but deep within you, you carry the mark of the war, you carry the memories of war, the time you have spend with your comrades, the times when you had to dug in to foxholes to avoid shelling, the times when you hate to see your comrade down on the ground, feeling of despair, atrocities of the war, missing families, home. They live through hell and often the most wounded, they live with the guilt, despair, of being in the war, they may be happy but deep down they are a different person. Not everyone is a hero. You live with the moments, time when you were unsuccessful, when your actions would have helped your comrades, when your actions get your comrades killed, you live with regret, joyous in the victory can never help you forget the time you have spent. You are victorious for the people you have lost, the decisions you have made, the courage you have shown but being victorious in the war has a price to pay, irrevocable.

you can’t take a memory back from a person, even if you lose your memory your imagination haunts you as deep down your sub conscious mind you know who you are, who you were. Close you eyes and you can very well see your past, you cant change your past, time you have spent, you live through all and hence you are a hero not for the glorious war for the times you have faced. Decoration with medals is not going to give your life back. The more you know, more experiences doesn’t make it easy rather make its worse. Arms and ammunition kills you once and free you from the misery but the experiences of war kills you everyday, makes you cherish the times everyday through the life. You may forgot that you cant walk anymore, you may forget you cant use your right hand, you may forgot the scars on your face but you can never forgot war. Life without war is never easy and only the ones how survived through it can understand. Soldiers are taught to fight but the actual combat starts after war which you are not even trained for. You rely on your weapon, leaders, comrades, god, luck in the war but here you rely on your self to beat the horrors,they have seen hell, heaven, they have felt the mixed emotions of hope, despair, courage, victory, defeat, scared.

Every soldier thinks something of the moral aspects of what he is doing. But all war is immoral and if you let that bother you, you’re not a good soldier.

The soldier is the army. No army is better than its soldiers. The soldier is also a citizen. In fact, the highest obligation and privilege of citizenship is that of bearing arms for one’s country.

The most vital quality a soldier can possess is self-confidence, utter, complete and bumptious.

War is life multiplied by some number that no one has ever heard of.

We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—i believe we are lost.

No soldier outlives a thousand chances. But every soldier believes in chance and trusts his luck.

Soldiers are men…most apt for all manner of services and best able to support and endure the infinite toils and continual hazards of war.

War is the greatest evil satan has invented to corrupt our hearts and souls. We should honor our soldiers, but we should never honor war.

To be a soldier one needs that special gene, that extra something, that enables a person to jump into one on one combat, something, after all, that is unimaginable to most of us, as we are simply not brave enough.

Maybe the ultimate wound is the one that makes you miss the war you got it in.

Do you know what a soldier is, young man? He’s the chap who makes it possible for civilised folk to despise war.

One doesn’t become a soldier in a week – it takes training, study and discipline.There is no question that the finest Army in the world is found in the United States.

Although a soldier by profession, I have never felt any sort of fondness for war, and I have never advocated it, except as a means of peace.

Our soldiers have nobly fought to protect freedom since our country’s birth, and have fought to protect those that could not protect themselves, even in foreign lands when called upon.

A lack of common sense usually ends in some heroic feat, much like the soldier who dives onto the grenade so that others may live.

Soldiers, when committed to a task, can’t compromise. It’s unrelenting devotion to the standards of duty and courage, absolute loyalty to others, not letting the task go until it’s been done.

Soldiers are not policemen, and it’s very unfair, even for those soldiers who have some police training, to burden them with police duties. It’s not what they’re trained for, or equipped for.

Sweeney: I can just see all you tough young soldiers cuddling together.
richard: not cuddling, huddling. There’s a difference.

Soldiers usually win the battles and generals get the credit for them.

If the thing they were fighting for was important enough to die for then it was also important enough for them to be thinking about it in the last minutes of their lives. That stood to reason. Life is awfully important so if you’ve given it away you’d ought to think with all your mind in the last moments of your life about the thing you traded it for. So did all those kids die thinking of democracy and freedom and liberty and honor and the safety of the home and the stars and stripes forever?

you’re g*dd*mn right they didn’t.

they died crying in their minds like little babies. They forgot the thing they were fighting for the things they were dying for. They thought about things a man can understand. They died yearning for the face of a friend. They died whimpering for the voice of a mother a father a wife a child they died with their hearts sick for one more look at the place where they were born please god just one more look. They died moaning and sighing for life. They knew what was important they knew that life was everything and they died with screams and sobs. They died with only one thought in their minds and that was I want to live I want to live I want to live.

he ought to know. He was the nearest thing to a dead man on earth.

As I remember his laugh, there was nothing mad about it, it was more like the laugh of someone who has been the victim of a practical joke, a farce in which he had believed until suddenly he realized his folly.

Soldiers are citizens of death’s grey land, drawing no dividend from time’s tomorrows.

Any soldier worth his salt should be antiwar. And still there are things worth fighting for.

Every lover is a soldier.

I mean the only thing us dead soldiers got in common is that none of us was good enough or lucky enough to survive the fight. We’re a host of failures.

Poor boy! I never knew you, yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you.

There’ll be guys who were in wars hearing what we did and thinking, ‘whoa.’ you and me, we can say, ‘you got yourself some medals solider? yeah, well, I lived through the fayz.

The soldier—that is, the great soldier—of to-day is not a romantic animal, dashing at forlorn hopes, animated by frantic sentiment, full of fancies as to a love-lady or a sovereign; but a quiet, grave man, busied in charts, exact in sums, master of the art of tactics, occupied in trivial detail; thinking, as the duke of wellington was said to do, most of the shoes of his soldiers; despising all manner of èclat and eloquence; perhaps, like count moltke, ‘silent in seven languages’.

Every november of my boyhood, we put on red poppies and attended highly patriotic services in remembrance of those who had ‘given’ their lives. But on what assurance did we know that these gifts had really been made? only the survivors—the living—could attest to it. In order to know that a person had truly laid down his life for his friends, or comrades, one would have to hear it from his own lips, or at least have heard it promised in advance. And that presented another difficulty. Many brave and now dead soldiers had nonetheless been conscripts. The known martyrs—those who actually, voluntarily sought death and rejoiced in the fact—had been the kamikaze pilots, immolating themselves to propitiate a ‘divine’ emperor who looked (as orwell once phrased it) like a monkey on a stick. Their christian predecessors had endured torture and death (as well as inflicted it) in order to set up a theocracy. Their modern equivalents would be the suicide murderers, who mostly have the same aim in mind. About people who set out to lose their lives, then, there seems to hang an air of fanaticism: a gigantic sense of self-importance unattractively fused with a masochistic tendency to self-abnegation. Not wholesome.

the better and more realistic test would therefore seem to be: in what cause, or on what principle, would you risk your life?.

The soldier’s heart, the soldier’s spirit, the soldier’s soul, are everything. Unless the soldier’s soul sustains him he cannot be relied on and will fail himself and his commander and his country in the end.

Soldiers have many faults, but they have one redeeming merit; they are never worshippers of force. Soldiers more than any other men are taught severely and systematically that might is not right.

You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols and cartridges: the old ones, grub.

Military guys are rarely as smart as they think they are, and they’ve never gotten over the fact that civilians run the military.

A lady who sets her heart upon a lad in uniform must prepare to change lovers pretty quickly, or her life will be but a sad one.

War always reaches the depths of horror because of idiots who perpetuate terror from generation to generation under the pretext of vengeance.

A soldier’s life revolves around his mail. Like many others, i’ve been able to follow my kid’s progress from the day he was born until now he is able to walk and talk a little, and although I have never seen him I know him very well.

If my soldiers were to begin to think, not one of them would remain in the army.

Good soldiers never pass up a chance to eat or sleep. They never know how much they’ll be called on to do before the next chance.

The reaper does not listen to the harvest.

Bill door was impressed. Miss flitworth could actually give the word “revenue”, which had two vowels and one diphthong, all the peremptoriness of the word “scum.

The Grim Reaper, Gloria corrected herself – if anyone deserved capital letters it was surely Death. Gloria would rather like to be the Grim Reaper. She wouldn’t necessarily be grim, she suspected she would be quite cheerful (Come along now, don’t make such a fuss).

Aramis liked the t-shirt he was given because it had the image of the grim reaper on it. He liked the irony, since the grim reaper took lives, while he was a saver of lives.

What can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?.

Sergeant colon of the ankh-morpork city guard was on duty. He was guarding the brass bridge, the main link between ankh and morpork. From theft.

when it came to crime prevention, sergeant colon found it safest to think big.

This was insane. What was wrong with the world? didn’t they know that ghosts and supernatural powers where little girls helped their dads and uncles solve case didn’t exist?
it was books. It was television shows and movies. They had desensitized the world.
“damn writers.

Picture a tall, dark figure, surrounded by cornfields…
no, you can’t ride a cat. Who ever heard of the death of rats riding a cat? the death of rats would ride some kind of dog.
picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves…
don’t ask me I don’t know. Some kind of terrier, maybe.
…fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze…
right, and the death of fleas can ride it too. That way you kill two birds with one stone.
…awaiting the clockwork of the seasons.
metaphorically.

I am always alone. But just now I want to be alone by myself.

Who said death is dead? he’s fully alive, traveling around the world, throwing shadows and soaking in the sun. Visiting the young and old; placing bets and dicing regrets, for the worse or a better off place.

No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone’s life is only the core of their actual existence.

She watched as the dancing lights of madness swirled and flickered in his eyes like the fires of hell, and she knew that there would never be anything that could quench those fires except death. Vanessa knew that jango had become his own grim reaper.

I remember when all this will be again.

When the grim reaper comes to call, words fail- they’re just too small.

It feels like getting a back massage from the Grim Reaper: one must get comfortable with the most horrifying things in the world.

Was that what it was really like to be alive? the feeling of darkness dragging you forward?
how could they live with it? and yet they did, and even seemed to find enjoyment in it, when surely the only sensible course would be to despair. Amazing. To feel you were a tiny living thing, sandwiched between two cliffs of darkness. How could they stand to be alive?.

Sadly, I cant avoid being 75. Like many people of my age, we are all heading towards the grim reaper, and I am clinging on. I just to have to sharpen my fingernails a little so that I can hang on for longer!

Studies have shown that an ant can carry one hundred times its own weight, but there is no known limit to the lifting power of the average tiny eighty-year-old spanish peasant grandmother.

I drive a motorbike, so there is the whiff of the grim reaper round every corner, especially in London.

Try to bind me again… You’ll die before you start. Nice pickle chips, by the way!.

Wizards don’t believe in gods in the same way that most people don’t find it necessary to believe in, say, tables. They know they’re there, they know they’re there for a purpose, they’d probably agree that they have a place in a well-organised universe, but they wouldn’t see the point of believing, of going around saying “o great table, without whom we are as naught.” anyway, either the gods are there whether you believe in them or not, or exist only as a function of the belief, so either way you might as well ignore the whole business and, as it were, eat off your knees.

Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind.

In the first book of my Discworld series, published more than 26 years ago, I introduced Death as a character; there was nothing particularly new about this – death has featured in art and literature since medieval times, and for centuries we have had a fascination with the Grim Reaper.

I’ve never been very sure about what is right, said bill door. I am not sure there is such a thing as right. Or wrong. Just places to stand.

Still, this whole grim reaper thing should have come with a manual. Or a diagram of some kind. A flowchart would have been nice.

He said that there was death and taxes, and taxes was worse, because at least death didn’t happen to you every year.

And your green eyes are the color of the hills- the color of my home.’ his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘aye, there’s something about you, lindsey waters.

Everyone knows that time is Death, that Death hides in clocks. Imposing another time powered by the Clock of the Imagination, however, can refuse his law. Here, freed of the Grim Reaper’s scythe, we learn that pain is knowledge and all knowledge pain.

Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.

Do you know, every time I’ve seen you you’ve been like the Grim Reaper of goodwill and cheer. You should find another profession.

After a while the senior wrangler said, “do you know, I read the other day that every atom in your body is changed every seven years? new ones keep getting attached and old ones keep on dropping off. It goes on all the time. Marvelous, really.”

the senior wrangler could do to a conversation what it takes quite thick treacle to do to the pedals of a precision watch.

“yes? what happens to the old ones?” said ridcully, interested despite himself.

“dunno. They just float around in the air, I suppose, until they get attached to someone else.”

the archchancellor looked affronted.

“what, even wizards?”

“oh, yes. Everyone. It’s part of the miracle of existence.”

“is it? sounds like bad hygiene to me,” said the archchancellor. “i suppose there’s no way of stopping it?”

“i shouldn’t think so,” said the senior wrangler, doubtfully. “i don’t think you’re supposed to stop miracles of existence.”

“but that means everythin’ is made up of everythin’ else,” said ridcully.

“yes. Isn’t it amazing?.

Belief sloshes around in the firmament like lumps of clay spiralling into a potter’s wheel. That’s how gods get created, for example. They clearly must be created by their own believers, because a brief resume of the lives of most gods suggests that their origins certainly couldn’t be divine. They tend to do exactly the things people would do if only they could, especially when it comes to nymphs, golden showers, and the smiting of your enemies.

That’s not fair, you know. If we knew when we were going to die, people would lead better lives.”

if people knew when they were going to die, I think they probably wouldn’t live at all.

All things that are, are ours. But we must care. For if we do not care, we do not exist. If we do not exist, then there is nothing but blind oblivion. And even oblivion must end someday. Lord, will you grant me just a little time? for the proper balance of things. To return what was given. For the sake of prisoners and the flight of birds.

death took a step backwards.

it was impossible to read expression in azrael’s features.

death glanced sideways at the servants.

lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the reaper man?.

There is a plain under a dim sky. It is covered with gentle rolling curves that might remind you of something else if you saw it from a long way away, and if you did see it from a long way away you’d be very glad that you were, in fact, a long way away.

three gray figures floated just above it. Exactly what they were can’t be described in normal language. Some people might call them cherubs, although there was nothing rosy-cheeked about them. They might be rumored among those who see to it that gravity operates and that time stays separate from space. Call them auditors. Auditors of reality.

they were in conversation without speaking. They didn’t need to speak. They just changed reality so that they had spoken.

one said, it has never happened before. Can it be done?

one said, it will have to be done. There is a personality. Personalities come to an end. Only forces endure.

it said this with satisfaction.

one said, besides… There have been irregularities. Where you get personality, you get irregularities. Well-known fact.

one said, he has worked inefficiently?

one said, no. We can’t get him there.

one said, that is the point. The word is him. Becoming a personality is inefficient. We don’t want it to spread. Supposing gravity developed a personality? supposing it decided to like people?

one said, got a crush on them, that sort of thing?

one said, in a voice that would have been even chillier if it was not already at absolute zero, no.

one said, sorry. Just my little joke.

one said, besides, sometimes he wonders about his job. Such speculation is dangerous.

one said, no argument there.

one said, then we are agreed?

one, who seemed to have been thinking about something, said, just one moment. Did you not just use the singular pronoun “my?” not developing a personality, are you?

one said, guiltily, who? us?

one said, where there is personality, there is discord.

one said, yes. Yes. Very true.

one said, all right. But watch it in future.

one said, then we are agreed?

they looked up at the face of azrael, outlined against the sky. In fact, it was the sky.

azrael nodded, slowly.

one said, very well. Where is this place?

one said, it is the discworld. It rides through space on the back of a giant turtle.

one said, oh, one of that sort. I hate them.

one said, you’re doing it again. You said “i.”

one said, no! no! I didn’t! I never said “i!”… Oh, bugger…

it burst into flame and burned in the same way that a small cloud of vapor burns, quickly and with no residual mess. Almost immediately, another one appeared. It was identical in appearance to its vanished sibling.

one said, let that be a lesson. To become a personality is to end. And now… Let us go.

Death didn’t happen like I expected it to. There was no grim reaper, no chorus of angels, no army of demons. And my life didn’t flash before my eyes. Death was the color of softness, a delicate green under a thin film of baby powder. There was nothing but soft random thoughts and picture, drifting through me like a child’s breath blowing through a dandelion after making a wish. And as I died, I was held by my love. I wanted to soak up her love and smuggle it with me to wherever my soul was headed.
-character ron (broken).

Death is permanent. There’s no coming back if you get off the ferryman’s boat.

Inside every lump of coal there’s a diamond waiting to get out.

Life is a copiously branching bush, continually pruned by the grim reaper of extinction, not a ladder of predictable progress.

It was the living who ignored the strange and wonderful, because life was too full of the boring and mundane.

It was amazing how many friends you could make by being bad at things, provided you were bad enough to be funny.

I can’t look people in the eye and tell them that they’re going to die anymore.

You become a changed person when you face the reaper and deny him your soul.

Most species do their own evolving, making it up as they go along, which is the way nature intended. And this is all very natural and organic and in tune with mysterious cycles of the cosmos, which believes that there’s nothing like millions of years of really frustrating trial and error to give a species moral fiber and, in some cases, backbone.

I kill people with my tattoo machine.

The Grim Reaper doesn’t disappear… he catches up.

If per capita was a problem, decapita could be arranged.

You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everyone dances with the Grim Reaper.

A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away…

I’ve got money!” eve exclaimed in a frantic frenzy of hope, her eyes dancing wildly with the notion that there was some way out of this. “i mean, I don’t know what use money is to the grim reaper, but i’ve got a ton of cash! it’s in a hat box under my bed! i’ve got a bright red lexus in the garage, i’ve got my engagement ring upstairs, it’s real gold… there must be something we can trade off with…”
“you can’t bribe me away, i’m afraid,” said mr. Azrael. “money means nothing where I come from.

You’re not a woman,” he said finally. “You’re the Grim Reaper with red hair!

I’ve cheated the Grim Reaper more times than anyone I know, and I’ll fight like a wildcat until they nail the lid of my pine box down on me.

And, ah, who are you? What Horseman, I mean.” Thanatos swung around. “Death.” Cara swallowed. Audibly. “As in, the Grim Reaper?” He snorted. “That poser.

Harmony glanced to her left, and my gaze followed hers to the living room, where my aunt had died, my cousin had been restored, and I’d whacked a psychotic grim reaper with a cast-iron skillet. Weirdest. Tuesday. Ever.

You fear to die?
“it’s not that I don’t want… I mean, i’ve always…it’s just that life is a habit that’s hard to break…

Lilliana turned around slowly. “what happened? you seemed so relaxed and happy when we were in the desert, like you were a normal person and not the grim reaper. Now you’re extra…reapy.”
she cleared her throat. “also, you’ve sprouted horns.”
of course he had.
she eyed him like he was a rabid hellhound, and when her gaze dropped to his feet, he barked, “what are you doing?” “checking for hooves.”
he was pretty sure his horns grew larger. So did his dick. Irritation that he couldn’t control his own body, let alone his emotions, pissed him off even more. Made him…as she put it, extra reapy.

I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There’s a whole song about it.

…no-one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away… The span of someone’s life, they say, is only the core of their actual existence.

I’m so happy dancing while the grim reaper
cuts, cuts, cuts, but he can’t get me.
I’m as clever as can be, and I’m very quick but don’t forget;
we’ve only got so many tricks.
no one lives forever.

Sometimes death lurks after them for days, weeks, or even months, waiting for their time… Sometimes it doesn’t, and i’ve often raced that omnipresent reaper to one portion of its work.

Belief is one of the most powerful organic forces in the multiverse. It may not be able to move mountains, exactly. But it can create someone who can.

people get exactly the wrong idea about belief. They think it works back to front. They think the sequence is, first object, then belief. In fact, it works the other way.

Life is not the end, and death is just the beginning…

Handsome enough’ is this Grim Reaper, Who can snuff all these ‘brief candles,’ every fluttering soul sucking the air, from this hall” -The Vampire Lestat

The landscape was snow and green ice on broken mountains. These weren’t old mountains, worn down by time and weather and full of gentle ski slopes, but young, sulky, adolescent mountains. They held secret ravines and merciless crevices. One yodel out of place would attract, not the jolly echo of a lonely goatherd, but fifty tons of express-delivery snow.