Quotes About Reaper

Excuse me, have you seen Death? Big guy with black feathery wings? Likes to reap souls?

The reaper lacks the eyes to hold him back;

The end was right up close and personal, different for each person, a kick in the rear and a joy-buzzer handshake from the Reaper himself. But

Handsome enough' is this Grim Reaper, Who can snuff all these 'brief candles,' every fluttering soul sucking the air, from this hall.

Do you know, every time I've seen you you've been like the Grim Reaper of goodwill and cheer. You should find another profession.

Our sorrows are the golden grain Of the great reaper--Art.

Reaper of enemies; strong of grip; One kind with his fathers.

A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

By the way—I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

As W.H. Auden pointed out, the Reaper takes the rolling in money, the screamingly funny, and those who are very well hung. But that isn't where Auden starts his list. He starts with the innocent young.

Death walked everywhere and there was no one who didn't know the sound of the Reaper's voice.

At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb.

In the midst of a foggy field, the answers are hidden But the impossible journey deems them forbidden. The Reaper of Death, the Angel of Life. They walk together in day and night.

Rourke was the Grim Reaper with a hard-on.

Farewell " If I am dying, leave the balcony open. The child is eating an orange. (From my balcony, I see him.) The reaper is reaping the barley. (From my balcony, I hear him.) If I am dying, leave the balcony open.

If I die, leave the balcony open. The little boy is eating oranges. (From my balcony I can see him.) The reaper is harvesting the wheat. (From my balcony I can hear him.) If I die, leave the balcony open!

The Crone, the Reaper... She is the Dark Moon, what you don't see coming at you, what you don't get away with, the wind that whips the spark across the fire line. Chance, you could say, or, what's scarier still: the intersection of chance with choices and actions made before. The brush that is tinder dry from decades of drought, the warming of the earth's climate that sends the storms away north, the hole in the ozone layer. Not punishment, not even justice, but consequence.

Seasons don't fear the Reaper, nor do the Sun, the Wind or the Rain. We can be like they are. Come on, baby, don't fear the Reaper.

What can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the Reaper Man?

The reaper does not listen to the harvest.

LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?

It had to be Death. No-one else went around with empty eye sockets and, of course, the scythe over one shoulder was another clue.

laughter was about more than humour. This was about reducing tension, solidarity in face of the grim reaper.

I am and have been the reaper of wayward souls for a long time.