Old age arrives like the first days of fall. One afternoon you look up, or smell something in the air, and know instinctively things have changed. I suppose the same thing is true about our own death. Suddenly it’s near enough that we can smell it. — Jonathan Carroll, The Marriage of Sticks. (Tor Books;… Continue reading Jonathan Carroll
There are stories which slowly erode the mind in solitude like a kind of canker. — Sadegh Hedayat, The Blind Owl (Grove Press, 1994)
To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due. ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 4: Season of Mists. (Vertigo; Gph edition, March 10, 1999) Originally published 1990.
I can’t profess to understand God’s Plan. [When] Christ promised the resurrection of the dead—I just thought he had something a little different in mind. – Scott Wilson [Hershel Greene], The Walking dead. “Beside the Dying Fire.” Season 2 Episode 13 (March 18, 2012)
God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise. ― Walter de la Mare, The Return. (Dover Publications; First Thus edition, July 18, 1997) Originally ublished 1910.
She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking. — Angela Carter, from “The… Continue reading Angela Carter
In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again.” — Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders. (William Morrow; First Edition edition, September 26, 2006)