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.)

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

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.

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!

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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).

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

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

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.

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)

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

Men are easy though. Hurt their ego a little and they have to try to prove something to you.

Shit!

But, of course, he has to be difficult. Which doesn’t make any sense, since he asked me to be his lawyer.

SO HELP YOU, REAPER

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

Fucking this girl was like playing footsie with the grim reaper. Undeniably dangerous. Addicting, too, when near death felt this good. 

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")

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

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

or

How the hell can it end happily? Raise your hand if you survived your own death because you had a trick up your sleeve when the Grim Reaper showed up at your doorstep. The end is known and unavoidable. Life is a fucking tragedy, which no one survives. That's how it is. Mankind cannot escape the inevitable, and Earth cannot avert its pending demise. The sun, the universe and everything that exists will not survive. It will all come to an end one day. That is the only unquestionable truth.

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

When the grim reaper comes calling; run like hell.

He just signed his death certificate, and I’m the Grim Reaper coming to collect his soul.

He was an engaged father. All his children were now adults — he was a grandfather, after all — but he once told me that making his children behave was like herding cats after a big bout of catnip play. The visual stuck and always made me chuckle. Braden shot his father a dirty look.

The grim reaper Blue Oyster Cult

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

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

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?

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

The central and crucial feature of the mid-life phase,” Jaques said, was the “inevitability of one’s own eventual personal death.” When people reach the middle of their lives, they suddenly spy the Grim Reaper in the distance, which uncorks “a period of psychological disturbance and depressive breakdown.

We will make sure that his blood flows out of his body in the slowest, most painful way. We will make his entrails become his ex-trails all while he watches and as he begs for death. And we will deny him the grim reaper until he’s felt every ounce of pain he inflicted upon you tenfold.

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

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.

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.

You do not cause death, you do not prevent death, you are a servant of Destiny, not its agent. Get over yourself.

Some time ago, the Luminatus, or the Great Death, who kept balance between light and darkness, ceased to be. Since then, Forces of Darkness have been trying to rise from below. You are all that stands between them and destruction of the collective soul of humanity. Try not to screw up.

Death is Beautiful!

Death is Beautiful

He's gotten into your head, too. Richard. You're a part of his insanity now.” I shook my head. “The plan was my idea. My uncle wouldn't go along with it, so he put me in touch with Richard. Richard said he didn't have an opinion on way or the other, he just said he didn't see a problem with a man taking his own vengeance.” Now it was her turn to shake her head. “Two men who've both seen terrible things in their lives, and they let a young man, with his whole future ahead of him, throw away any chance at a normal life, and you don't think you're being manipulated?” I was taken aback by this. “I can't imagine my uncle would let me get manipulated by someone like Richard. It doesn't make sense.” She leaned in to me now, only inches away. Her stare was shocking, piercing in its intensity. “Richard has made a pact with Death. He sold his soul, and to keep the Grim Reaper from collecting on the deal, Richard keeps feeding people into the mouth of Hell. It doesn't matter if he pulls the trigger, if you do it for him, or even if it's you who dies. Everyone who comes into contact with him gets sucked into oblivion. You, your uncle, everyone.” There was the beginning of a laugh in me, but it died when I realized she wasn't kidding. “Sold his soul?” I said. “You can't really mean that. No one makes a pact with Death. That doesn't even make sense.” She sat back. “There are certain men, certain violent men, who live through the blood and the death all around them, surviving when they should’ve died a hundred times. These men have made a deal, a pact, with Death. In exchange for their lives, they must offer up lives in return. It is an old magic. A dark magic, a warrior's magic. That is the magic of blood and murder, and Richard has practiced it all his life. He’s a sorcerer. A vampire. He may never die, he has seen and caused so much death.” She was breathing hard now, her eyes wild. For no reason I could fathom, the skin at the back of my neck and along my arms prickled, the hairs standing on end. An idea came to me. “The brotherhood,” I said.

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.

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.

Last year Zachary learned about death when his goldfish kicked the bucket. He walked around like a tiny grim reaper telling us we're all going to die someday.

Throughout the ages, people have feared me. Even in this modern world, where technology masquerades as magic and reason rules superstition, they shudder when they talk of me. Some call me La Meurte; others, The Grim Reaper. Most whisper only my true name: Death. Lost in their fear, no one sees the grace in my eternal silence.

I think Adam ate the apple first, then gave it to Eve and had her take all the blame.

put your hand on my shoulder.” “Why?” I question as I slowly move towards him. He grins and winks at me. “You’ll see.

a sharp slap in the face reminding death is not just reserved for the elderly. The circle of life is a best-case scenario, not a guarantee, and the Grim Reaper can come a-callin’ when you least expect it. Sure, I had experienced death before.

yet another failed attempt at seeing the Grim Reaper. But I’ve stopped attempting. I don’t like failing.

I ask, “Are you an angel?” Because I didn’t know they made ‘em like that. I would’ve died sooner if that’s the case.

Sometimes being alone is the best. It means you get to eat all the marshmallows. And that’s something.

They used to say MTV was the death of the ugly musician,” I mutter. “Not even close. Instagram is the new grim reaper.