The Best, Funny Quotes About Death From Overwatch’s Reaper

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.