Quotes About Decay

The old man is spread out on the worm buffet and

After the woods our good cheer was quelled by the faint first whiff of a real battlefield, a gagging combination of shit and gunpowder, gas and blood, decaying flesh and muddy rot.

Despite my profound and continuing fascination with decadence and decay, with where dead humans lose their bones, I'm more stable than I've been in a very long time. But don't start imagining that everything's okay with me. Or the opposite.

Since an emotion's an announcement of value, in this society of the death (of values) emotions moved like zombies through humans.

One day she yelled, You're always naked except for that bunch of skulls around your neck. In which maggots're living. That you never take off. And you're odoriferous. In a bad way. You think that death's sexy, that's why you stink most of the time; of rot and foul, fetid fur, but you smell worst when you're about to come.

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep, He hath awaken'd from the dream of life; 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. We decay Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

The interior looked like I expected. Two rooms--a main one and a tiny bedroom. Dusty stuffed fish and moth-eaten elk heads on bare walls. A wood plank floor that seemed as if it hadn't been swept in years. Cobwebs decorating the ceiling. Furniture that would have been rejected by Goodwill. Mouse droppings everywhere. A few dark furry bat forms hung from the upper eaves. In the city, the place would have been condemned as a public health hazard. Here, it was just a typical hunting shack.

A Ned se le antojó una visión triste: una meretriz envejecida esforzándose al máximo por sacar partido a sus decrépitos encantos con tal de retener el afecto de un sacerdote viejo, corrupto y barrigudo. Algunas veces, Ned tenía la sensación de vivir en un mundo en descomposición.

Out along the dim six-o'clock street, I saw leafless trees standing, striking the sidewalk there like wooden lightning, concrete split apart where they hit, all in a fenced-in ring. An iron line of pickets stuck out of the ground along the front of a tangleweed yard, and on back was a big frame house with a porch, leaning a rickety shoulder hard into the wind so's not to be sent tumbling away a couple of blocks like an empty cardboard grocery box.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (whose mother died ten days after she was born) wrote a novel that anticipates Semmelweis's discovery and serves as a parable for the destructive power of decaying matter.

Ideas either age like fine wine or rot like potatoes over time.

Surely revival delays because prayer decays.

Roma, a mis ojos, estaba demasiado viva y demasiado muerta. Es bello ver una ciudad viva y poderosa, pero también es bello ver el cadáver de una ciudad sublime.

Dig a trench through a landfill and you will see layers of phone books like geographical strata or layers of cake.... During a recent landfill dig in Phoenix, I found newspapers dating from 1952 that looked so fresh you might read one over breakfast.

Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

We have seen the best of our time: machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves.

A very ancient and fish-like smell.

Hamlet: For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?Polonius: I have, my lord.Hamlet: Let her not walk i' the sun.

There's small choice in rotten apples.

When love begins to sicken and decay,It useth an enforced ceremony.There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.

For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.

Falstaff sweats to deathAnd lards the lean earth as he walks along.

I were better to be eaten to death with rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.

She that herself will sliver and disbranchFrom her material sap, perforce must witherAnd come to deadly use.