Quotes About Decay

have they started work yet, go on, one teeny tiny peek. Rain and rust and ruin. Carpetgrass dead slime. That made her very sad.

Junkie whores on both sides of Calumet clung to the fetid doorways and rotted stoops like painted lice to a filthy crotch.

The spirit is the mirror; the body is the rust. (Divan-i-Shamsi Tabriz)

When the lion had eaten its fill, and the jackals had taken their share, the ants came along and finished up the meat from the bones of the haughty stag.

El espíritu es el espejo, el cuerpo es la herrumbre. Divan-i-Shamsi Tabriz

it is grand to contemplate the ruins of cities; but it is grander still to contemplate the ruins of human beings!

We're beings toward death, we're featherless, two-legged, linguistically-conscious creatures born between urine and feces whose body will one day be the culinary delight of terrestrial worms. That's us.

I hate the world. Everything comes into it so clean and goes out so dirty. (from COVER CHARGE - currently not listed)

The time flies. The time flies feed on rotting clocks.

Daniel seems to rise above the moon with a brilliance in his eyes. He steps toward the sea and screams, more in defiance than rage. "Mortality; O wretched death and mortality! Decay is a demon dream, schemed in symmetry. O, that death crucified might halt its talons, for all will ascend from the grave! Remember the fallen, the slain; their dust is our foundation. Consider their suffering and pain; for there lies a new creation.

Unstrained, I sit and gaze, glare, survey, stare through barred windows encased in embroidered steel. Pearly frosted dust obstructs the channels of light, leaving only small pillars of fire, arranged in disordered fragments. The antiquated sallow walls are stained with crimson braids that wreathe and scuttle about the rimes and rifts.

Mirrors are for misery, nothing more...they record decay.

But those with an evil heart seem to have a talent for destroying anything beautiful which is about to bloom.

The goal of every culture is to decay through over-civilization; the factors of decadence, -- LUXURY, scepticism, weariness and superstition, -- are constant. The civilization of one epoch becomes the manure of the next.

Popular success is a palace built for a writer by publishers, journalists, admirers, and professional reputation makers, in which a silent army of termites, rats, dry rot, and death-watch beetles are tunnelling away, till, at the very moment of completion, it is ready to fall down.

These walls have sheltered joys, and sorrows, and hopes and fears innumerable; they have rung with the noise of revelry and the sound of grief; children have been born, and grown to manhood and died within their shelter – and now they are crumbling to ruin, fit only for the owl and the jackdaw to live in and build their nests.

Vice is Washington's signature. A fish rots from the head, and Washington has led our country into vice, greed, selfishness, and the mockery and destruction of human life.

He'd always preferred newness, associating old things with decay and dowdiness.

From what I've seen so far," Devon remarked, "it would be far more sensible to set fire to this rotting heap of timber rather than to try and repair it." Kathleen's eyes widened. "Eversby Priory is historic. It's four hundred years old." "So is the plumbing, I'll wager.

How does dirt find its way into old houses like it does? Sometimes I think it's the house itself, old and disintegrating by degrees, breathing out sighs of itself, sighs longing for a little bit of notice.

Scenic Route Someone was always leaving and never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wives along this road; they are everywhere, abandoned, leaning, turning gray. Someone always traded the lonely beauty of hemlock and stony lakeshore for survival, packed up his life and drove off to the city. In the yards the apple trees keep hanging on, but the fruit grows smaller year by year...

Someone was always leaving and never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wives along this road; they are everywhere, abandoned, leaning, turning gray.

There are those who want things made worse, not better, so that they can scavenge on the remnants. Remember what you know already: the human world is filled with predators.

There are people who, like houses, are beautiful in dilapidation.