morbid

If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

What is living? Forging memories. What is dying? Forgetting them.I never die.

Why__ you want to kill yourself? Didn__ you feel anything, or didn__ it hurt you?_ Mandy questioned, looking puzzled. __es, I suppose it did, _ it was strange, it was sharp, that__ all I can think of to describe it_ and cold, but not cold like ice, more like_ I don__ know, like something much worse, something horrible_ and it seemed like the ground was falling upwards, becoming the sky_ for a moment it made me consider that it was just a dream, that I was on some sort of drug, and then I remember being overjoyed to see the sky was still above me, then just really sad, really tired_ and then I don__ remember much else about it,_ Alecto told her, glaring straight ahead at the sky with narrowed eyes. __ don__ mind, I__ not supposed to mind, anyway. Mearth already told me that eventually I would want to be dead, that it was inevitable_ still, I sometimes wish that I could have done something good for other people in my life, it might have made up for all the bad stuff I__e done.

Directing a funeral isn__ about death at all. Funerals are for the living, not the dead.

Relationships must be fostered as far as possible and maintained, and thus a morbid transference can be avoided.

Envy and respect are not the same things...Before I endow you with respect, I should find out whether your curiosity is intellectual or merely morbid. Not that those who gawk at train derailments are so different from those who conduct autopsies; both want, at some level, to know what has happened, and, by extension, what will happen. Did the liver fail because of the decedent's alcoholism or was some toxin administered? If the deliverer is found, he or she may be imprisoned or, in more honest times, hanged, and thus pose no further threat. Or for the gawker at the accident, espying loose parts not unlike his or her own parts strewn amid wreckage may lead to a sense of awe at death's power, or horror at life's fragility, either of which may be instructive in any number of ways.

There is no rest for the humble except in despising the great, whose only thought of the people is inspired by self-interest or sadism.

To call an artist morbid because he deals with morbidity as his subject-matter is as silly as if one called Shakespeare mad because he wrote __ing Lear.

I__ fine, Mom. Thanks for asking._...__f course you__e fine._ She keeps walking. __ou__e the devil__ bride and these are his creatures._...____ not the devil__ bride._ __e carried you out of the fire and is letting you visit us from the dead. Who else would have those privileges except his bride?

Of course, if one does not fully trust the promise of God's Kingdom, he will have a hard time taking risks and making sacrifices in this life. A gospel centered around the temporal self - fleeting happiness, earthly success, vain prosperity, things such as these - is the primary ambition of the half-hearted Christian; the one who somewhat believes he is subject to an eternal death; the one who just might believe in men before God, who morbidly fears seeming less than anyone else. The man of this school feels deeply that he has but one life to live, that this must be his only chance, and therefore must have it all in his favor - from glory to comfort to riches - and have it right this instant. He is but hinting that he is overcome because he insists always that he must overcome, that his judgment comes now and by the persons around him. The point is, however, in this sense, that by grace the Christian is indeed free, but only for as long as he wants to be free - the practicality of true freedom: that of God which offers not so much freedom to be like the world as it does freedom from the pressures of having to be like the world. For Divine Law is based solely on love and freedom; whereas secular law, pressure and imitation.

Beware of those who are bored and not passionate about life, for they will bore you with reasons for not living.

Well, you__e not exactly social, are you, Mandy Valems?___h yeah, sure, because I__ just surrounded by genius to be social with in this day and age,_ Mandy replied with razor-sharp sarcasm. __ey, I don__ need anyone else! I__e got you, you__e my friend, and you__l be with me forever!___You won__ be with me forever, though_ said Alecto cynically. ____ like a spider__ web; anyone who is friends with me gets dragged into my troubles and eventually dies.___Poetic, dear friend,_ Mandy sighed, shaking her head. __orbid, but poetic.

Nobody really wants to be your friend when they discover that you work with dead people.

It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.

Tanith frowned. Did people still go on DATES any more? She was sure they did. They probably called it something different though. She tried to think of the last date she'd been on. The last PROPER date. Did fighting side by side with Saracen Rue count as a date? They ended up snuggling under the moonlight, drenched in gore and pieces of brain - so it had PROBABLY been a date. If it wasn't, it was certainly a fun time had by all. Well, not ALL. But she and Saracen had sure had a blast.

The ship told you the guilty systems recognizes no innocents. I'd say it does. It recognizes the innocence... only to violate it.

Being me is a job _ is labour so time-consuming and expensive that I have to have a second job just to support it. So that I can drink, I have to get drink and that isn__ something people give away and then there__ drink that I need because I have drunk and the other drink I have to keep around because, sooner or later, I will drink it. That__ a full-time occupation: that__ like being a miner, or a nurse.

The only time you were safe was when you were dead.