Grim Reaper Death Quotes

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.)

And, ah, who are you? What Horseman, I mean.” Thanatos swung around. “Death.” Cara swallowed. Audibly. “As in, the Grim Reaper?” He snorted. “That poser.

Only by being prepared for your death can you ever truly live.

So I am death" Charlie said then turned to his daughter while buttering his toast. "This is death toast sweety.

I drive a motorbike, so there is the whiff of the grim reaper round every corner, especially in London.

Straightening up so the full force of that cold blast hit him square in the face, Qhuinn glared into the rush, picturing those pines ahead that he couldn’t see because his eyes were watering from the wind. Opening his mouth, he screamed bloody murder, adding his voice to the maelstrom. Godd*mn it, he wasn’t going down like a pussy. No ducking, no pathetic oh-please-God-no-saaaaaave-me. F**k that. He was going to meet death with his fangs bared and his body braced and his heart pounding not from fear, but from a whole boatload of . . . “Blow me, Grim Reaper!

Their names are Death, Disease, War, and Sparkle-Darkle Glitter-tits,” Sophie said. “They’re the four little ponies of the Apocalypse.

Don’t be so hard on yourself, You’re doing the same thing, trying to reconcile all the moms that Mom ever was - The one you wanted, the one she was when you needed her and she was there, the one she was when she didn’t understand. Most of us don’t live our lives with one, integrated self that meets the world, we’re a whole bunch of selves. When someone dies, they all integrate into the soul - the essence of who we are, beyond the different faces we wear throughout our lives. You’re just hating the selves you’ve always hated, and loving the ones you’ve always loved. It’s bound to mess you up.

So Now You're Death: Here's What You'll Need

To the girls who think that the grim reaper will fuck like a god.

Mr. Asher, you can resist who you are for only so long. Finally, you just decide to go with fate.

The average person has the most fear of death and in reality thinks most rarely about it. The most prominent one occupies himself with it most persistently, but nevertheless fears it the least. The one lives blindly day to day, sinning away, only to sink down before the grim reaper. The other carefully observes his approach but then looks him in the eye, calm and composed.

You're Nash's brother. And a grim reaper?" She blinked again, and I readied myself for hysterics, or fear, or laughter. But knowing emma, I should have known better. "So you, what? Kill people? Did you kill me that day in the gym?" She clenched the headrest, her expression an odd mix of anger, awe, and confusion. But there was no disbelief. She'd seen and heard enough of the bizarre following her own temporary death that Tod's admission obviously didn't come as that much of a surprise. Or maybe Nash's Influence was still affecting her a little. "No," Tod shook his head firmly, but the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. "I had nothing to do with that. I do kill people, then I reap their souls and take them to be recycled. But only people who are on my list." "So, you're not...dangerous?" His pouty grin deepened into something almost predatory, like the Tod I'd first met two months earlier. "Oh, I'm dangerous...." "Tod..." I warned, as Nash punched his brother in the arm, hard enough to actually hurt. "Just not to you," the reaper finished, shrugging at Emma. "I see you all the time, but you've never seen me, because Kaylee said if I got too close to you, I'd suffer eternity without my balls." "Jeez, Tod!" I shouted, my anger threatening to boil over and scald us all. The reaper leaned closer to Emma and spoke in a stage whisper. "She's not as scary as she thinks she is, but I respect her intent.

Vaporized by the sun! Wasn't that what the universe had in store for all of us? There would come a day when the sun exploded like a red balloon, and everyone on earth would be reduced in less than a camera flash to carbon. Didn't Genesis say as much? For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. This was far more than dull old theology: It was precise scientific observation! Carbon was the Great Leveler--the Grim Reaper. Diamonds were nothing more than carbon, but carbon in a crystal lattice that made it the hardest known mineral in nature. That was the way we all were headed. I was sure of it. We were destined to be diamonds!

You become a changed person when you face the reaper and deny him your soul.

A chat With the Grim Reaper should be enough to scare away any thought of relapse. Wish it were that easy, but not even days conversing with death can disintegrate the claws of addiction.

He knows what I am—death. Ryder might be the face, Garret might be the enforcer, the muscle, and Kenzo the dealer… but me? I’m the fucking Grim Reaper.

Death wrapped Hartvigsen tightly in its skeletal wings, causing the woodsman's mouth to open with an eruptive gasp.

A little girl’s voice said, “I am become Death, destroyer of worlds!” Audrey held the phone out for Charlie. “It’s for you.

He who longed for death more than anyone else was the Grim Reaper himself.

She watched as the dancing lights of madness swirled and flickered in his eyes like the fires of hell, and she knew that there would never be anything that could quench those fires except death. Vanessa knew that Jango had become his own Grim Reaper.

Fear of death. Buried deep Living inside of me Reaper never knocks more than once That thump is scaring me Pulmonary veins
They're suddenly filled with ecstasy Sing and dance in praise
I hope it's God that's sent for me

Death comes to those who wait. And to those who don’t. So either way … —CHARLOTTE JEAN DAVIDSON, GRIM REAPER

Death is permanent. There’s no coming back if you get off the ferryman’s boat.

Do not seek death. Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfillment. —Dag Hammarskjöld

Grim Reaper stole her heart a long time ago and all these years later, he came back… and like a thief in the night, he took the rest of her with him.

Sometimes Death lurks after them for days, weeks, or even months, waiting for their time... Sometimes it doesn’t, and I’ve often raced that omnipresent Reaper to one portion of its work.

The Grim Reaper, Gloria corrected herself - if anyone deserved capital letters it was surely Death. Gloria would rather like to be the Grim Reaper. She wouldn't necessarily be grim, she suspected she would be quite cheerful (Come along now, don't make such a fuss).

I wondered how many other things had flown past me into death. Perhaps many. Perhaps I was flying past them, like the grim reaper, signaling the end. This would explain so much.

Thanatos swung around. “Death.” Cara swallowed. Audibly. “As in, the Grim Reaper?” He snorted. “That poser. He deals with evil souls.

While most people have a healthy fear of the grim reaper, we wanted to hang out with Death and see what records he listened to. Dust

Dear Lord," my grandmother muttered under her breath. "All you think about is death! It is like living with the Grim Reaper." Dad

Who said death is dead? He's fully alive, traveling around the world, throwing shadows and soaking in the sun. Visiting the young and old; placing bets and dicing regrets, for the worse or a better off place.

He chuckles. “Last night when you were too drunk to even know your name, you showed me your toy. I was impressed at the size.” He leans down until his lips are by my ear. “Let me know when you want something bigger.

imagine what death would feel like, they mostly described sadness, fear, and anxiety. But their studies of terminally ill patients and death row inmates found that those actually facing death are more likely to speak of meaning, connection, and love. As the researchers concluded: “Meeting the grim reaper may not be as grim as it seems.

Do not be afraid Everyone before you has died You cannot stay Any more than a baby can stay forever in the womb Leave behind all you know All you love Leave behind pain and suffering This is what Death is. —The Book of Living and Dying (The Tibetan Book of the Dead)

FACT 413: Smoking contributes to heart disease, the number one cause of death in the United States. Cigarette smokers quadruple their risk for developing coronary heart disease. I think it would be fun to put on a Grim Reaper costume and go stand in the corner of the smoking room at the airport. Just stand there. With my sickle.

There is no fuckin’ conclusion to us,” he growled, his gaze tattooing my soul. “No end. Even death doesn’t signify the severing of this. Us. Nothing’s gonna do that, baby. Something as inconsequential as a visit from the grim reaper sure as shit isn’t gonna keep me from you. And we both know from living in this world that death is far from final.

Death didn't happen like I expected it to. There was no Grim Reaper, no chorus of angels, no army of demons. And my life didn't flash before my eyes. Death was the color of softness, a delicate green under a thin film of baby powder. There was nothing but soft random thoughts and picture, drifting through me like a child's breath blowing through a dandelion after making a wish. And as I died, I was held by my love. I wanted to soak up her love and smuggle it with me to wherever my soul was headed. -character Ron (Broken)

To them he’s the slightly less frightening alternative to the grim reaper.

I am a lot of things, young lady… Grim Reaper, Death dealer, fate sealer… but I am no liar.

he realized, with no little sense of irony, that until he became Death, he’d never felt so alive.

When the Grim Reaper comes to call, words fail- they're just too small.

There is no reason for him to be in a strange land, the grim reaper holding him close, saying, "Yes, today is the day," or "No, not yet.

A death that results from your actions is basically killing someone, unless you’re a politician, right?

I wish people would spend more time worrying about themselves and less about what others are doing.

Congratulations, you have been chosen to act as Death, it’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

Mr. Fuckface, I quit. Don’t argue with me. Argue with your momma for creating such a vile, money-grubbing man.

let me get this straight, You're more likely to believe that i'm the grim reaper? is that what you're saying? well, I guess that i just might be death in the sense. For truly this reality is a hell.

And a ride in a hearse tells us we’re all close to that final cruise . . . when the body dies and we move on. It’s just the body, man. It’s just the body. The soul’s already gone. So don’t be afraid of a dead body absent a soul. It’s empty, man. No resident. What you need to worry about is a living body that’s lost its soul. Now that is scary, man.” - Funk N. Wagnalls, owner of the Grim Reapers auto lot, a character in Professor Brown Shoes Teaches the Blues.

The unpredictability of our unavailing lives is inane and frivolous, with the grim reaper only ever one step behind us. Your greatest challenge is to live the life you dream of, before his deathly scythe decapitates your peripheral existence

So rather than spending my golden years searching for the meaning of my life, I rather believe I'll just keep on trying to make some meaning out of my life right up until I pitch over nose first into the dirt for that little nap. - Tom King (I Ain't Afraid of No Grim Reaper)

Death despises bartering. Yet this king of Death was the greatest barterer of us all. He bartered with our lives, dreams, hopes, and prayers—he used them to control us. And he would continue to so long as we allowed him. But today, if only for me, he would stop. He wouldn’t win.

I loved these songs and could still hear them in my head long after and into the next day. They weren't protest songs, though, they were rebel ballads... even in a simple, melodic wooing ballad there'd be rebellion waiting around the corner. You couldn't escape it. There were songs like that in my repertoire, too, where something lovely was suddenly upturned, but in stead of rebellion showing up it would be death itself, the Grim Reaper. Rebellion spoke to me louder. The rebel was alive and well, romantic and honorable. The Grim Reaper wasn't like that.

Our best minds are not wasting their time trying to give meaning to death. Instead, they are busy investigating the physiological, hormonal and genetic systems responsible for disease and old age. They are developing new medicines, revolutionary treatments and artificial organs that will lengthen our lives and might one day vanquish the Grim Reaper himself.

But you are the Grim Reaper?” “I am.” “Okay. Fine,” I snapped, tossing the ice bag at him and nailing him right in the crotch. “OH MY GOD. I am so sorry,” I gasped out as he jackknifed forward and hissed. “I did not mean to do that.” “Of course you didn’t,” Gideon said with a wince. “No one in their right mind would rack a man who carries a scythe and wears a cheesy hooded black cape.

Throughout history, religions and ideologies did not sanctify life itself. They always sanctified something above or beyond earthly existence, and were consequently quite tolerant of death. Indeed, some of them have been downright fond of the Grim Reaper. Because Christianity, Islam and Hinduism insisted that the meaning of our existence depended on our fate in the afterlife, they viewed death as a vital and positive part of the world. Humans died because God decreed it, and their moment of death was a sacred metaphysical experience exploding with meaning. When a human was about to breathe his last, this was the time to call priests, rabbis and shamans, to draw out the balance of life, and to embrace one’s true role in the universe. Just try to imagine Christianity, Islam or Hinduism in a world without death – which is also a world without heaven, hell or reincarnation. Modern science and modern culture have an entirely different take on life and death. They don’t think of death as a metaphysical mystery, and they certainly don’t view death as the source of life’s meaning. Rather, for modern people death is a technical problem that we can and should solve. How exactly do humans die? Medieval fairy tales depicted Death as a figure in a hooded black cloak, his hand gripping a large scythe. A man lives his life, worrying about this and that, running here and there, when suddenly the Grim Reaper appears before him, taps him on the shoulder with a bony finger and says, ‘Come!’ And the man implores: ‘No, please! Wait just a year, a month, a day!’ But the hooded figure hisses: ‘No! You must come NOW!’ And this is how we die. In

no matter what the Grim Reaper says about not meaning to collect my soul, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m looking down at my lifeless body while my friends stare at each other. Hello? Call 911. Or maybe someone could start doing CPR. Idiots. “Come with me,” the Reaper insists, tugging on my arm. “There isn’t much time.” I shake him off and shoot my best withering glare in his direction. “I don’t think so. You saw what she did. You were coming for her, not me. She’s the one you should be hauling out of here.” And then he shrugs his shoulders. Is he kidding? He rips my soul from my body and the next minute acts like I’m asking to change the station on the car radio.

Sonnet XII: There is a Meetinghouse across the wold There is a Meetinghouse across the wold Near shaded churchyard where pine breezes sigh; Such sacred mem'ries gently here unfold Of rustic folk whom 'neath the yew trees lie. Engraved on stones now crum'ling in the earth, Of souls asleep for o'er a hundred years, Foretell unceasing cycles—Death and Birth That yew tree nods and weeps her unseen tears. But God shall guide us through the gloom of night Victorious over grim reaper's blade, As yet we grasp to see eternal light Amidst life's fickle joys which here do fade. Victims of Death by lusty scythe bannish'd Triumphant wake to find nightmares vanish'd! 13 February, 2013

The cemetery watchman left the room and returned with a tray holding three small skulls and a large one. I could feel the short hairs on the back of my neck standing up of their own accord. None of them were real though; they were wood or celluloid imitations. They all had flaps that opened at the top; one was a jug and the other three steins. The man behind the desk named the toast. 'To our Friend!' I thought he meant myself at first; he meant that shadowy enemy of all mankind, the Grim Reaper. 'We are called The Friends of Death,' he explained to me when the grisly containers had been emptied. 'To outline our creed and purpose briefly, it is this: That death is life, and life is death. We have mastered death, and no member of the Friends of Death need ever fear it. They 'die,' it is true, but after death they are buried in special graves in our private cemetery - graves having air vents, such as you discovered. Also, our graves are equipped with electric signals, so that after the bodies of our buried members begin to respond to the secret treatment our scientists have given them before internment, we are warned. Then we come and release them - and they live again. Moreover, they are released, freed of their thralldom; from then on death is an old familiar friend instead of an enemy. They no longer fear it. Do you not see what a wonderful boon this would be in your case, Brother Bud; you who have suffered so from that fear?' ("Graves For The Living")

There is no doubt that 'force multipliers' - squad automatic weapons - have changed the character of warfare once again, just as their predecessors did during the First World War, if perhaps not to quite the same degree. In the immediate future it seems that most armies will be using some form of 5.56mm machine-gun at squad level, be it a box-fed LSW or belt-fed SAW. If there is a cloud on the horizon where modern light machine-guns are concerned it is that they are not powerful enough for long-range work, or for penetrating cover and light armour. Nevertheless, the new generation of light machine-guns will remain in use well into the next century, not least because they are popular with the soldiers who operate them, the machine-gunners. Likewise, there will still be a place for the heavier GPMG, which does have the 'punch' that the LSW lacks. Machine-guns themselves have become lighter, and their operating principles both more secure and more efficient; the ammunition they use has shrunk to a quarter of its original size and become almost 100 percent reliable. The one important thing which has not changed dramatically is the human component; the attitude with which man faces the prospect of death in battle, and how he prepares himself to face that possibility quite deliberately, for it was the original invention of the machine-gun which reformed that. More than any other single 'advance' in weapons technology, the machine-gun allowed an individual (or actually, a small team of men) to dominate a sector of the battlefield. They had an inhuman advantage which simply had to be exploited if they were to be on the winning side, whether their opponents were Zulus, Sioux, or Dervishes, or other industrialized nations to be beaten into last place in the race toward economic supremacy. Whether the machine-gun has been as important, in any sense at all of the word, as it near-contemporary, the internal combustion engine - or even, date one say it, the bicycle or sewing machine - is still to be decided, but there is one clear, irrefutable fact connected with its short history: it has killed tens of millions of men, women and children and blighted the lives of tens of millions more.

Death is Beautiful!

Death is Beautiful

Dylan lifted my chin so my lips could meet his. I kissed him hard, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion I’d held tight inside me. “Good things happen,” I said, crying now. “Sometimes I forget that even when I have a blessing right in front of me.” Dylan wrapped me tighter in his arms and smiled against my lips. “Me too, but I never lost faith in little Lark. If anyone could kick death in the ass, it would be her.” I laughed at the thought of Lark versus the Grim Reaper. When my laughter drew the attention of the others, they laughed too, even without knowing why. All the tension faded as our fears turned to celebration. “Shit, I’m gonna get teary-eyed,” Vaughn announced, looking at his phone. We all received the same message from Raven with pictures of the babies. “Which one’s the girl?” Judd asked, squinting at Tawny’s phone. “The one with the pink hat,” his wife said. Everyone laughed again. “You can’t see if they have curly hair,” Cooper muttered. “Man, I hope at least one of them does. I’m never letting Aaron live that shit down.” More laughter as everyone enjoyed the additional photos Raven sent.

Only by being prepared for your death can you ever truly live. If

It kept him from reaching that place that he hit so, so often in his life, the mind-bending, sob-inducing limit where he said to himself, I just cannot endure any more motherfucking death. No more! Order. Put everything in order. Serve order. That was the why and what of it. Order.

As I get older and I crest the top of that imaginary slope of life, I am more aware of how finite life is—that there are fewer days left than those I’ve already explored.

I know this clown," Grim said in an evil tone. "He keeps teasing me with these near death experiences. One day, I'm going to take his butt down even when I'm not supposed to. You can't keep knocking on my door and then slamming it in my face. It's just not right.

Who is your father?” Vanessa asked. “He’s Death. Sometimes you call him The Grim Reaper. Although he’s really not that grim. Compared to me atleast.” Her iris became white as her pupils shrank. Dabria became skeletal.

Stay at home or risk an encounter with the COVID-19 Grim Reaper!

Expiration date... expiration date... ah there you are - must be sad for milk to always know exactly when it'll go.

Saw the redwoods - even bigger than I thought! One of the trees had a great big hole right through the middle of it. The guide said it was "dying slowly" - so when everyone passed, I stepped inside. All the sounds went away. I felt small and warm. It wasn't dying at all. It was just living slowly.

You think you're ready to face death, but when the grim reaper comes, your whole being screams to live, if only for five more minutes.

I'll never understand human displays of affection,' Death said. 'I want to see you naked. Here, have some dead foliage.

Death is such a tragic and scary thing. The grim reaper kidnapping our loved ones like a murderer and the living are left in a grief stricken panic. The griever now lives life like a wounded soldier with a hole in his heart and a hundred pound bag of sorrow strapped to his back. The dead transcend into heaven, light as a feather, on spirit wings.

Reminders and recipes were pinned to the kitchen wall, including Death's instructions on how to recreate the Big Bang: 1 Bottle of Diet Coke 1 Packet of Mentos 1 Rubber Band 1 Particle Accelerator 1 Excitable Puppy

A text message from Death. I'VE JUST HAD A KIT KAT THAT WAS ALL CHOCOLATE NO WAFER. WHERE'S YOUR PRECIOUS SCIENCE NOW?

Cronus, much like his mother Gaia, has survived in concept through the ages. He is pictured in various ways and interpreted in a variety of ways; from the benevolent Father Time, sometimes at certain festive times of the year referred to as Santa Claus, to the scythe-wielding, hooded specter of death we call the Grim Reaper, Cronus is, in some sense, the only remaining true master of his ancient domain.

In the blink of an eye, you might die/the grim reaper doesn't care how high you can fly

Can you kill Thanatos—for good?” A mean little smile spreads across Famine’s face. “Does that frighten you, tootsie?” “I swear if you call me that again, I will take off my boot and clobber you with it.” The Reaper folds his arms and leans back against a nearby wall. “Try it,” he says, lifting his chin. “I dare you.” His eyes promise vengeance. Famine is different from his brother, Death. Thanatos might be violent, but there’s no anger to it. He seems grimly resigned to his duty, which makes him and his task all the more frustrating, but at least he doesn’t relish it. Unlike this deviant. I bet Famine loves killing. He looks as though he does.

Well, one guy died because of something I said to him, and another had a heart attack because of something I did. A death that results from your actions is basically killing someone, unless you're a politician, right? So why me?

He cares about you,” I argued. “It’s kind of nice. I mean ... as long as he’s not a pervert or anything.

This was the man that had blustered his way around everyone, giving the appearance of bravery and boldness, but now when he was facing the grim reaper, he had turned to a whining and fearful coward. Such is the case with many a man that faces the reality of death knowing he has made no provisions to prepare for his eternity.

Stan

I find that death or the middle finger go hand-in-hand another words giving death or the Grim Reaper the middle finger go about your life and forgot the Grim Reaper even exist. Excuse my French but fuck the Grim Reaper but he needs to know that he is worthless

Murders, father, death after death. The woman who died two nights ago in Jackson Square, I killed her, and thousands of others before her, one and two a night, father, for seventy years. I have walked the streets of New Orleans like the Grim Reaper and fed on human life for my own existence. I am not mortal, father, but immortal and damned, like angels put in hell by God. I am a vampire.

Existing just keeps getting worserer.” “Not sure that’s a word.” Duh. It’s not a word. But remixing a word allows for more emphasis on the situation. He really needs to live a little. I scoff. “I didn’t know they were hiring.” “Who?” he asks, confused at the turn of the conversation. I give him a look. “The grammar police.” He chuckles. “I would help you get hired, but I’m sure you won’t even get an interview.

I looked like the Grim Reaper only, instead of bringing death to everyone's doorstep, I brought snow and flirty winks.

Speaking of that, I kind of want a Bigfoot costume now.

He knows what I am—death. Ryder might be the face, Garret might be the enforcer, the muscle, and Kenzo the dealer…but me? I’m the fucking Grim Reaper.

Making a death appointment grimly amused me at first, sounding as it did, like I was arranging a meeting with the actual grim reaper to complete the admin side of dying in his office. I stood up at my desk as I put my coat on to leave for my first ever registrar meeting and dramatically announced ‘I must go, I have an appointment,’ pause for effect, ‘with death.

Three, in the little time I’ve come to know you, I realize that I don’t like you.

When I start to get louder, he picks up my panties from beside me and shoves them in my mouth.

For those who feel that you must Water yourself down for others Let them choke

Ladies, gentleman, and nonbinary besties—the show is over.

The grim reaper Blue Oyster Cult

A wise Grim Reaper once gave me some good advice that I should have heeded when you and I first met… I won’t confess to anything. You use your detective skills on this one, Brandon.” “Please tell me you are kidding about knowing the Grim Reaper?” “A Reaper, and you can call him Deathripper.” “Long hooded robes and scythe kind of thing?” “You and your freaking questions, Brandon! No, he wears black but no robes. He’s a bit of a rebel. He does have a scythe.” “Death? You are friends with freaking Death?

Refuse anything you know is not for you and demand everything that’s already yours.

can

An Apple A Day, Keeps Death Away by Stewart Stafford Death came knocking at my door, He said he’d come to claim my soul, I said I wasn’t ready yet, And asked him for an hour or so. "Death waits for no man!" it roared, Adding that my time was up, The Reaper said we were leaving, And that I was such a cheeky pup. I asked if he'd like an apple for the trip, And gestured to my magic tree, "Aye," he said, reaching up, His hand stuck to it, to my glee. "What trick is this?" Death howled, "Free me, I demand, this instant!" "Lift my death sentence first," I said, "Never! Taking life is a constant!" "Use your other hand to free yourself." He tried until both hands became stuck, "Let me live, and you may go," I said, "Agreed!" Death vanished. What good luck! An apple a day keeps Death away, But in the long run, you'll have to pay, Unless you have a magic tree - A new lease on life, briefly. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.