Quotes About Decay

Fascism is capitalism in decay.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

The body politic, as well as the human body, begins to die as soon as it is born, and carries itself the causes of its destruction.

Rome had senators too, and that is why it declined.

Let the entire system of government be strengthened, and let the balance of power be drawn up in such a manner that it will be permanent and incapable of decay because of its own tenuity.

All political institutions are manifestations and materializations of power; they petrify and decay as soon as the living power of the people ceases to uphold them.

I saw bundles of dead raggedy reeds hanging down from the broken ceilings that had depicted heaven. I looked deep into the house's diseased and dying maw. It was like it had been putting on an act the whole time and was only now showing itself as it, in reality, had always been: a hollow, drafty cavern, rancid and rotting at its core.

Seneca points out that by causing our bodies to deteriorate, old age causes our vices and their accessories to decay. The same aging process, though, needn't cause our mind to decay; indeed, Seneca remarks that despite his age, his mind "is strong and rejoices that it has but slight connexion with the body." He is also thankful that his mind has thereby "laid aside the greater part of its load."3

He withers all in silence, and in his hand Unclothes the earth and freezes up frail life.

Turning and turning in the widening gyreThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhereThe ceremony of innocence is drowned;The best lack all conviction, while the worstAre full of passionate intensity.

Land of Heart's Desire,Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold...

In the dim kingdom there is a great abundance of all excellent things. There is more love there than upon the earth; there is more dancing there than upon the earth; and there is more treasure there than upon the earth. In the beginning the earth was perhaps made to fulfill the desire of man, but now it has got old and fallen into decay. What wonder if we try and pilfer the treasures of that other kingdom! ("The Three O'Byrnes and the Evil Faeries")

A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant; one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.

The past is now like a charnel-house, where the dead do but bury the dead.

The barracks should of course have been torn down years ago, but the Fort's current proprietors, the Archaeological Survey of India, have lovingly continued the work of decay initiated by the British: white marble pavilions have been allowed to discolour; plasterwork has been left to collapse; the water channels have cracked and grassed over; the fountains are dry. Only the barracks look well maintained.

The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.

There are great complaints of what men have lost in these hurling times. Some bemoan their lost places and estates, others the lost lives of their friends in the wars; but professors may claim justly the first place of all the mourners of the times, to lament their lost loves to the truths of Christ, worship of Christ, servants of Christ—yea, that universal decay which appears in their holy walking before God and man.

Grace in a decay is like a man pulled off his legs by sickness; if some means be not used to recover it, little service will be done by it, or comfort received from it. Therefore

Corruption, in these bugs, is splendid.

The tomb lies at the end of every path. Only the soul is immortal. Guard this treasure well. Your decaying husk is but a temporary vessel on an endless voyage.

She lived in a sort of ramshackle magnificence.

Civilization could not be said to have truly ended until there were no restaurants left.

Flesh decays; bone endures. Flesh forgets and forgives ancient injuries; bone heals, but it always remembers: a childhood fall, a barroom brawl; the smash of a pistol butt to the temple, the quick sting of a blade between the ribs. The bones capture such moments, preserve a record of them, and reveal them to anyone with eyes trained to see the rich visual record, to hear the faint whispers rising from the dead. I