Quotes About Decay

A mighty oak can be felled by even the tiniest of insects when one allows them to continually gnaw at it.

No fruit dies so vile and offensive a death as the banana...

There is a glamour, even to a thing undoing itself

It is time for us to keep in mind that it requires more to make and preserve a Republic than the mere absence of a king, and that when a Republic decays its soul is apt to die first, which its outward form may still be lasting.

Minha mão está suja; Preciso cortá-la. Não adianta lavar. A água está podre.

Por encima de aquel cansancio y de aquella podredumbre se levantaba la luz de la luna. No había más que mirar al cielo para verla. Abajo, en los callejones, se olvidaba una de ella...

La mentira y el deterioro se suelen colar a través de los adverbios del tiempo.

To put it simply, for Plato change equals death and decay. Since the body is the location of death and decay, the human body and all bodies were found lacking. Plato found change so problematic that he imagined divine power existing totally apart from the changing world, as we have seen. God not only did not have a body; he was also separate from all bodies. This is the first theological mistake.

Everything new and beautiful seems to arrive already haunted by its own demise.

what a horrible thing your body is, the way it's doomed from day one, your fate is death no matter what you do.

And why not—whatever despair we may feel concerning resurrection and reassemblage—find comic relief in the human determination to assert wholeness in the face of inevitable decay and fragmentation?

These ruins are to the future what the past is to us

You picture a garden gone to seed: moss growing on the surface of our spleens, vines squeezing our kidneys. Tiny mushrooms spreading across the linings of our intestines.

There is something about libraries, old libraries, that makes them seem almost sacred. There's a smell of paper and must and binding stuff. It's like all the books are fighting against decay, against turning into dust, and at the same time fighting for attention.

Behold, in yon stripped Autumn, shivering gray, Earth knows no desolation, She smells regeneration In the moist breath of decay.

Dead rats don't squeak.

worms have crawled up your nose and eaten your wits.

Some men are like swords, made for fighting. Hang them and they go to rust.

Flies are the dead man's revenge.

The world grows a little darker everyday.

The dead are likely dull fellows, full of tedious complaints—the ground's too cold, my gravestone should be larger, why does he get more worms than I do …

Among the many reasons assignable for the sad decay of true Christianity, perhaps the neglecting to assemble ourselves together, in religious societies, may not be one of the least.

Beauty is desired in order that it may be befouled; not for its own sake, but for the joy brought by the certainty of profaining it.

sun-bleached boat