Quotes About Decay

el huesped septuagenario del número 12, investido alternativamente de gloria y de ignominia, permanecía estancado al costado de su hija -en la inalterable serenidad del atardecer de su existencia- como un guiñapo de hospital en la orilla de la cloaca.

Un des inconvénients les moins observés du suffrage universel, c'est de contraindre des citoyens en putréfaction à sortir de leurs sépulcres pour élire ou pour être élus. Le Président de la République est probablement une charogne. "Quatre ans de captivité à Cochons-sur-Marne

Times are not good here. The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become a study for archaeologists...but it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio.

What is to be done? We who are still half alive, living in the often fibrillating heartland of a senescent capitalism -- can we do more than reflect the decay around and within us? Can we do more than sing our sad and bitter songs of disillusion and defeat?

That's the van? It looks like a rotting banana." This was undeniable - Eric had painted the van a neon shade of yellow, and it was blotched with dings and rust like splotches of decay.

He has become a worm. That is what I am telling you." "I don't suppose it would be possible," said Henry into the silence, "to, er, step on him?

Once the corpse had been dressed, complete with a nightcap which kept the jaw closed and created the impression that the dead person was but sleeping, it was placed in an open coffin. This was lined with a sawdust mattress, to absorb the by-products of early decomposition, and scattered with pungent herbs such as rosemary to disguise the smell.

We forbid growth and therefore decay. Ambition, and therefore despair. Because each is only the warped relection of the other.

What happens to anything beautiful? Viy ate it up.

You carry your death in every cell of you. Every tiny mote in your body is dying, faster than sleight of hand. You are always dying, every second. How could I take that out of you?

Inside, I gagged. The floor was awash with excrement. Blocked toilet bowls brimmed with sewage. The place looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. Nobody had noticed, because nobody who mattered ever went in there.

Is het niet zo, dat men in het ondergaande, het ontbindende en hopeloos strijdende veel gemakkelijker de waarheid kan ontdekken dan in het bloeiende, zich samenvoegende en groeiende? Is het niet een feit, dat ziekte en dood veel duidelijker het wezen van het bestaan aan het licht brengen dan gezondheit en athletiek op Zondagmiddag?

Is het niet zo, dat men in het ondergaande, het ontbindende en hopeloos strijdende veel gemakkelijker de waarheid kan ontdekken dan in het bloeiende, zich samenvoegende en groeiende? Is het niet een feit, dat ziekte en dood veel duidelijker het wezen van het bestaan aan het licht brengen dan gezondheid en athletiek op Zondagmiddag

Rast ich, so rost ich. (When I rest, I rust.)

la kuvunda halian ubani. There is no incense for something rotting. And that is the condition of the world. This I know.

NOVEMBRE Gemmea l'aria, il sole così chiaro che tu ricerchi gli albicocchi in fiore, e del prunalbo l'odorino amaro senti nel cuore... Ma secco è il pruno, e le stecchite piante di nere trame segnano il sereno, e vuoto il cielo, e cavo al piè sonante sembra il terreno. Silenzio, intorno: solo, alle ventate, odi lontano, da giardini ed orti, di foglie un cader fragile. È l'estate, fredda, dei morti.

Il cuore si stanca anche lui, vedi; e se ne va a pezzo a pezzo, come le robe vecchie si disfanno nel bucato.

Não é preciso vigor nenhum para conquistar seja o que for», dizia ele, «tudo está podre e se rende, mas largar, saber deixar ir, isso é que conta.»

The rich death-colours of autumn were like an infinitely sad melody, like a sad song of unavailing regret; but in those passionate tints, in the red and the gold of the apples, in the varied hue of the fallen leaves, there was still something which forbade one to forget that in the death and decay of nature there is always the beginning of other life.

Around and around the house the leaves fall thick—but never fast, for they come circling down with a dead lightness that is sombre and slow. Let the gardener sweep and sweep the turf as he will, and press the leaves into full barrows, and wheel them off, still they lie ankle-deep.

Change there will be, as there has been throughout these... years. For he who rejects change is the architect of decay. The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow, and I shall be in them.

[B]ut his own vehicle had been a wreck of rust and nostalgia.

Fish and Visitors stink in 3 days.