Grim Reaper Quotes

You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

Don't be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It's the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.

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.)

Lucifer’s bouncing balls, Kitten, not again! You’re not a woman, you’re the Grim Reaper with red hair! Come on, Kitten, let’s go. Before you murder someone else.” -Bones&Cat

Still, this whole grim reaper thing should have come with a manual. Or a diagram of some kind. A flowchart would have been nice.

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.

Charlie noted that more and more lately, he had a hard time resisting the urge to fuck with people, especially when they insisted upon behaving like idiots.

Charlie Asher: I accidently shagged a monk last night. Minty Fresh: Sometimes, in times of crisis, that shit cannot be avoided.

Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, you can't have a baby brother, because that would mean that Daddy had sex, and that's never going to happen again.

Calm down, Braveheart." Gabriel searched through the weapons. "I'm trying to find something not quite as fatal as...a scythe? Really?" Gabriel held the wicked half-moon blade up and looked at Tristan. "What are you, the Grim Reaper?" "Yes. Yes, Gabriel. I'm the Grim Reaper. You caught me. I drive around in my car full of weapons collecting souls.

Everyone is happier if they have someone else to look down on, as well as someone to look up to, especially if they resent both.

I lay on my floor crying again… shaking. Searching for inner strength and coming up empty. My eyes burned and my mouth was dry as I sucked on air that seemed to keep getting thicker and harder to breathe. I tried to leave again, but ended up leaning my forehead against the door, feeling defeated and wishing the Grim Reaper would come for me in all his silky, black glory.

Harmony glanced to her left, and my gaze followed hers to the living room, where my aunt had died, my cousin had been restored, and I'd whacked a psychotic grim reaper with a cast-iron skillet. Weirdest. Tuesday. Ever.

The Emperor decided to make a proclamation to his troops about the importance of compassion in the face of the rising tide of heinous fuckery and political weaselocity in the nearby kingdom of the United States.

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

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.

You don't beat the grim reaper by living longer; you beat the grim reaper by living better.

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

Bones just stared. "You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

Everything beautiful, everything bold, everything breathtaking- that is what I feel in her gaze. That, and terrified. Terrified of what she is doing to me. She is a vision, a nightmare, a dream. A grim reaper clad in black, come to steal my soul and my heart. I've never seen something so beautiful, so bold, so blatantly wrong for me. She is a devil. She is a deity. She is a man's downfall in human form. She is my downfall. Then her eyes drift to Kitt. The connection snaps. And I'm left feeling empty besides the jealousy growing inside me. Why did I ever think I could have ever, ever think she would have me? Because beasts don't get the beauty.

Terrified of what she is doing to me. She is a vision, a nightmare, a dream. A grim reaper clad in black, come to steal my soul and my heart.

Lucifer's bouncing balls, Kitten, not again!" Uh-oh. I squirmed, instinctively also trying to block Tony's body from his view. As if that made him any less dead. "She was going to stab you," I said in my defense. "Look in her hand!" He was looking at the ground near my feet instead. "Him, too?" I nodded, sheepish. "He jumped me." Bones just stared. "You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

Most of us don't live our lives with one, integrated self that meets the world, we're a whole bunch of selves.

. . . You seem upset, Charlie. Is something wrong? Charlie: No, no, I’m okay, I just had to take directions from a mute beaver in a fez to get here, it’s unsettling.

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

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!

The hip-hop guy nodded curtly, like he knew that, and despite appearances to the contrary, he had not been trippin', but had, in fact, been chillin' like a mo-fuckin' villain, so step the fuck off, wigga. He crossed against the light, limping slightly under the weight of the subtext.

Charlie had Sophie strapped to his chest like a terrorist baby bomb when he came down the back steps. She had just gotten to the point where she could hold up her head, so he had strapped her in face-out so she could look around. The way her arms and legs waved around as Charlie walked, she looked as if she was skydiving and using a skinny nerd as a parachute.

Damn it, I needed The Idiot's Guide to Grim Reaperism.

Blow me, Grim Reaper!

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

Like most Beta Males, he didn't realize that being a good guy was not necessarily an attraction to women.

Lonliness evaporated off of them like the steam off dry ice, and by morning it was just a cloud on the ceiling of the room, then gone with the light.

Charlie Asher: Mrs. Ling, is that duck wearing trousers? Mrs. Ling: Could be . . . . You hear of paper-wrap chicken? This duck in pants.

The Grim Reaper doesn't disappear... he catches up.

. . . And so Charlie Asher . . . led an army of fourteen-inch-tall bundles of animal bits, armed with everything from knitting needles to a spork, into the storm sewers of San Fransciso.

I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There's a whole song about it.

The fact that there is insanity in the world proves that there is some sanity in it as well and we take sides on either subject when neither are good or bad.

I think you need to water your plants," Garrett [Swopes, PI]called out to me [Charley Davidson, Grim Reaper and PI]. "Oh, they're fake." He was looking at the plants I had along my windowsill. Either that or my mold problem was getting out of hand. After a long pause I heard, "Those are fake?" "Yeah, I had to make them look real. A little spray paint, a little lighter fluid, and voila! Fake dying plants." "Why would you want fake dying plants?" he asked. "Because if they were all thick and healthy-looking, anyone who knows me would realise they were fake." "Yeah, but is that really the point?" "Duh.

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

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

But caffeine, cigarettes and cholesterol, the grim reapers of the common man - God forbid I should give them up.

Footnote: In 1998, a woman in Saline, Michigan received a patent for a Decorative Penile Wrap...The patent included three pages of drawings, including a penis wearing a ghost outfit, another in the robes of the Grim Reaper, and one dressed up to look like a snowman.

She set the course of his life with just a smile.

Mr. Fresh sat down on the stool behind the counter and stared into the eyes of the cardboard cutout of Cher, hoping to find answers there. But the bitch was holding out.

She pulled down the blanket and aimed baby Sophie's bottom at him like she might unleash a fusillade of weapons-grade poopage such as the guileless Beta Male had never seen.

Emotional detachment from the plight of others — easily achieved by simply looking the other way — always favoured the perpetrators rather than the victims who were reduced to being inconsequential nonentities; were persecuted and denied legal and human rights; were starving, sick, and dying; were victims of Apartheid policies with racial segregations inclusive of political and economic discrimination; were harassed, internally displaced, or forcibly deported; were imprisoned, tortured, or simply “disappeared”; were enslaved, exploited, or trafficked; and were ultimately the victims of mindless massacres that defied the comprehension of anyone even remotely humane.

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

In order to hold off the Forces of Darkness, you will need a number two pencil and a calendar, preferably one without pictures of kitties on it.

Let’s just say that my father is a very powerful man." "That’s a little understated, don’t you think? … You know, seeing how he’s the Grim fucking Reaper.

You should never pass up an opportunity to be kind. You should never not thank someone. You should never not say something nice when you think it.

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.

Mr. Fresh looked up. "The book says if we don't do our jobs everything could go dark, become like the Underworld. I don't know what the Underworld is like, Mr. Asher, but I've caught some of the road show from there a couple of times, and I'm not interested in finding out. How 'bout you?" "Maybe it's Oakland," Charlie said. "What's Oakland?" "The Underworld." "Oakland is not the Underworld!" "The Tenderloin?" Charlie suggested.

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.

In fact, he sorely hoped that it would happen, because otherwise, the world made no sense, there was no justice, and life was just a tangled ball of chaos.

From all that I heard, and overheard, fate was a grim reaper, never kind, with little respect for who was loved and needed.

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

I like my tea like I like my men,” Audrey said. Jane looked at her quizzically. “Weak and green,” Charlie said.

You are not cursed-you are a reaper. You are the night incarnate, the ferrier of souls. You are the bridge between the living and the dead—a caged bird that's ready to fly. So spread your wings, Signa Farrow, because you are limitless. Spread your wings, and oh, how we'll fly.

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!

When the side effects knock you down, find the strength to get up, because you are a soldier. You’ve paid your dues, and nobody can hurt you because your foundation is solid. You are not broken down anymore. The Grim Reaper cannot steal your joy. You are no longer its victim. You are victorious, feeling good and living free! The ‘treatment’ gave you a turbocharge to find a cure. The cure is to love yourself more and to put yourself first.

I frowned, gaping at the blond in disbelief. “You’re the grim reaper?” Tod glanced at me for the first time, his frown practically etched into place. “You were expecting someone older? Taller? Maybe kind of gaunt and skeletal?”Contempt dripped from his words like acid.

There’s a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality—there’s mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin.

It's funny, but I always thought I could trust blue eyes. I thought they were safe somehow. All the good guys have baby blues. The dark eyes are for the villains... the Grim Reaper, the Joker, Zombies. All dark.

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.

What do you think, Vi?" She smiled wide with a lascivious look. "You had me at werewolf wet t-shirt contest.

When it appeared that even the most passive-aggressive attempts would not work, Charlie resorted to the ultimate Beta Male Attack, which was to tolerate Alvin and Mohammed's presence, but to resent the hell out of them and drop snide remarks whenever he had the chance.

One of them hissed-not the hiss of a cat, a long, steady tone-more like the hiss of air escaping the rubber raft that is all that lies between you and a dark sea full of sharks, the hiss of your life leaking out at the seams.

What kind of man is he?" "Super dark and broody, And delicious." She had no idea.

This was insane. What was wrong with the world? Didn’t they know that ghosts and supernatural powers where little girls helped their dads and uncles solve case didn’t exist? It was books. It was television shows and movies. They had desensitized the world. "Damn writers.

More than ever before the framework for absolute global control and oppression is now firmly in place. We have all been part of an evolution into a “new society” subject to authoritarian forms of government with militarised police forces at home and imperialistic policies abroad. In this “new society” the rich and powerful elites can have and do whatever they want, while the poor and powerless are left shackled and in desperate need.

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

And your green eyes are the color of the hills- the color of my home.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'Aye, there's something about you, Lindsey Waters.

Even with the Brotherhood as support, going to the colony was a suicide mission—and she was willing to bet there were a lot of people having sex under the mansion’s roof right now. Sometimes you had to have a taste of life right before you knocked on the Grim Reaper’s front door.

I'm not hungry." "Then at least let me get you some water." "I'm fine, Karissa," I tell her. "Good as new." "You're delusional." "You mispronounced handsome." She scoffs. "Not today. You look like shit." "Whatever, so maybe you're still handsome, even when you look like you've been fucked by the grim reaper.

The toleration of racism and xenophobia by most westerners contradicts their delusional assumptions — the result of mass indoctrination — of belonging to civilised and enlightened democracies where religious and political leaders abide by the truth with freedom and justice prevailing over racial preference, class privilege, negative preconceptions, and cowardly conformity. Such repressive indoctrination facilitates either silent complicity, or active involvement in the unspeakable crimes being committed against most of humanity.

It was watching Madeline Alby eat cheese with every ounce of her being, like it was the first and best time, that made him realize that he had never really tasted cheese, or crackers, or life. And he didn't want his daughter to live that way. He'd moved her into her own room the night before...He hadn't slept well, and had gotten up five times during the night to check on her, only to find her sleeping peacefully, but he could lose a little sleep if Sophie could go through life without his fears and limitations. He wanted her to experience all the glorious cheese of life.

He wanted her to experience all the glorious cheese of life.

Have you never met anyone who works in a record store? There is no greater repository of unjustified arrogance in the world.

What's this?" I raised our laced hands. His onyx eyes flickered to me and held. "You can let go if you want." After a few seconds, I whispered, "I don't want to.

You want the monster," he grated, a foreign wildness in his voice. "You're going to get him.

Sometimes, a man must muster all of his courage simply to sit still. How much humanity has been spoiled for the confusion of movement with progress, my friend? How much?

Millions more people in Africa, Asia, South America, and the rest of the world have also had the benefit of racist European “cleansing” and “civilising” in which Christian religious orders played a heinous role that contradicted every godly thing they preached about and claimed to stand for. When Europe’s imperial powers sought new geographic regions to expand their spheres of influence in the nineteenth century, Africa — with its wealth of natural resources — became a prime target for colonisation in which Christianity played a major role as one of Colonialism’s “Three Cs”: Civilisation, Christianity, and Commerce.

When he was reading he could fly away into the wildest skies of imagination, untethered to the reality that his soul was trapped in a wretched creature cobbled together from meat and bone, like us all.

Also, loquacious?" I arched a brow. "Trying to impress me with your big vocabulary?" "Since you're unwilling to check out my big cock, I thought it second best.

You look like a naughty waiter," I remarked with a smile. "You look like my delicious dinner." His dark gaze was in fact eating me up with relish.

After almost 70 years of being paralysed into silence by the Zionist venom — the accusation of anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial — the world in general and the West in particular, have continued to tolerate Israel’s unrelenting arrogance, barbarity, and contemptuous disregard for international law including the UDHR. That venom has prevented condemnation of incalculable cheating, lying, stealing, murdering, and ruthless violation of the legal and natural human rights of the Palestinian people by a nation devoid of conscience, humanity, or any of the noble principles claimed by the religion which it claims to represent.

People thought I was one of those people who beats their kid in department stores.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It’s the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.

He was a grim. An unknown. And his aura made me want to be very, very naughty. With him. My desire was so blood-burning, throat-choking intense that I feared what would be left after that kind of love affair was all over.

Homecomer, hitcher, phantom rider, White lady wants what’s been denied her, Gather-grim knows what you fear the most, But best keep away from the crossroads ghost. Talk to the poltergeist, talk to the haunt, Talk to the routewitch if it’s what you want. Reaper’s in the parlor, seizer’s in a host, But you’d best keep away from the crossroads ghost. - common clapping rhyme among the ever-lasters of the twilight

Everyone is happier if they have someone to look down on, as well as someone to look up to, especially if they resent both. This is not only the Beta Male strategy for survival, but the basis for capitalism, democracy, and most religions.

The ploy of using dark psychology to dehumanise certain ethnic and religious groups is so effective that it has been used repeatedly throughout history. Such racist psychology with discriminatory dehumanisation consists of five basic elements that include alluding to the below par intelligence or morality of the minority group to cause it to be ostracised while boosting the ego of the majority by assuring them of their own superiority; using infestation analogies to make the majority fearful that the minority is a threat to their welfare and security; comparing and referring to the minority as animals with the Nazis having frequently referred to innocent Jewish victims as rats; encouraging the use of violence by the majority who have been brainwashed into accepting that the minority are inhuman; and physically isolating or removing the minority by means of deportation, the formation of ghettos, or the use of concentration camps.

One Monday, just for sport, Charlie grabbed an eggplant that a spectacularly wizened granny was going for, but instead of twisting it out of his hand with some mystic kung fu move as he expected, she looked him in the eye and shook her head - just a jog, barely perceptible really - it might have been a tic, but it was the most eloquent of gestures. Charlie read it as saying: O White Devil, you do not want to purloin that purple fruit, for I have four thousand years of ancestors and civilization on you; my grandparents built the railroads and dug the silver mines, and my parents survived the earthquake, the fire, and a society that outlawed even being Chinese; I am mother to a dozen, grandmother to a hundred, and great-grandmother to a legion; I have birthed babies and washed the dead; I am history and suffering and wisdom; I am a Buddha and a dragon; so get your fucking hand off my eggplant before you lose it.

Okay, here’s the situation. We live in a world where the paranormal exist. Not vampires (sorry, sparkly Robert Pattinson fans). Not werewolves (sorry, randy Joe Manganiello fans). Not zombies (sorry, gritty Norman Reedus fans). Not mummies (sorry … hmm, there have never been any hot mummies in pop culture, have there?). But other things do exist. Reapers. Witches. Fairies. Wraiths.

She have to go pick up prescription, so I watch Sophie for short time. And tiny bears are happy when I go in bathroom." "Hamsters, Mrs. Korjev, not bears." .... "I've got her now," Charlie said. "One of you stay with her while I get rid of the H-A-M-S-T-E-R-S." "He mean the tiny bears.

When Charlie arrived home from his mother's funeral, he was met at the door by two very large very enthusiastic canines, who , undistracted by keeping watch over Sophie's love hostage, were now able to visit the full measure of their affection and joy upon their returning master. It is generally agreed, and in fact stated in the bylaws of the American Kennel Club, that you have not been truly dog-humped until you have been double-dog-humped by a pair of four-hundred-pouund hounds from hell (Section 5, paragraph 7: Standards of Humping and Ass-dragging). And despite having used an extra-strength antiperspirant that very morning before leaving Sedona, Charlie found that getting poked repeatedly in the armpits by two damp devil-dog dicks was leaving him feeling less than fresh. Sophie, call them off. Call them off." The puppies are dancing with Daddy," Sophie giggled. "Dance, Daddy!

Should I leave you two alone?" he asked, changing the subject. "He's taken," I said, accepting the fact that forgiving himself was something Reyes didn't do. "Osh. By someone very special." "And who might that be?" This might be a little hard for him to swallow. Tact was definitely in order. Or I could just blurt it out and watch his expression go from content to disbelief to horror to a bristly, murderous kind of fury. I chose door number two. "He's destined to be with our daughter." Reyes's expression slowly changed from content to disbelief to horror to a bristly, murderous kind of fury. "Oh, hell, no." He shot to his feet. "A Daeva? Are you fucking kidding me?" Just like a dad. "Yes, a Daeva. But I wouldn't dismiss him so offhandedly." He whirled around and scowled. Not really at me. Just in general. "What do you mean?" I pressed one corner of my mouth together in thought. "Okay, you know how I was the grim reaper all of my life, then suddenly I'm also this god from another dimension? And how you're the son of Satan all your life, then suddenly you're a god from this dimension? Who does that? Our lives are so weird. I think that maybe Osh is something else, too." I traced one of the dark lines on his face. "I think there's more than meets the eye. I see greatness in him, Reyes. I see a power beyond our imaginings. I see him giving his life for our daughter." "Oh." He sat back down, satisfied. "As long as he dies in the end.

You hold in your hands a very special book. It contains one hundred carnival rides of terror. You must remember: horror can come from any direction. It can be as subtle as a spider web's caress, or as vicious as the drop of an axe blade. It can be grim as the reaper, or as sardonic as, well, Sardonicous. It can wear the garments of science or superstition; can be dressed in the trappings of fantasy or the fancy-free. But always it will terrify. And one of the bluntest of its instruments is the short-short story, one of the most difficult of literary devices to master. Not only must each word be perfect-but each comma and period. Nothing can be wasted. In the hands of master executioners, like the authors who fill this book-it can be deadly. So... Die-and die again- one hundred times...

While Alpha Males are often gifted with superior physical attributes—size, strength, speed, good looks—selected by evolution over the eons by the strongest surviving and, essentially, getting all the girls, the Beta Male gene has survived not by meeting and overcoming adversity, but by anticipating and avoiding it. That is, when the Alpha Males were out charging after mastodons, the Beta Males could imagine in advance that attacking what was essentially an angry, woolly bulldozer with a pointy stick might be a losing proposition, so they hung back at camp to console the grieving widows. When Alpha Males set out to conquer neighboring tribes, to count coups and take heads, Beta Males could see in advance that in the event of a victory, the influx of female slaves was going to leave a surplus of mateless women cast out for younger trophy models, with nothing to do but salt down the heads and file the uncounted coups, and some would find solace in the arms of any Beta Male smart enough to survive. In the case of defeat, well, there was that widows thing again. The Beta Male is seldom the strongest or the fastest, but because he can anticipate danger, he far outnumbers his Alpha Male competition. The world is led by Alpha Males, but the machinery of the world turns on the bearings of the Beta Male.