But could words bethe end of me? — Dominic Riccitello
But could words bethe end of me? — Dominic Riccitello
But could words bethe end of me? — Dominic Riccitello
But could words bethe end of me? — Dominic Riccitello
But could words bethe end of me? — Dominic Riccitello
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But could words bethe end of me?

— Dominic Riccitello
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More “Death” Quotes

Lieutenant Welsh remembered walking around among the sleeping men, and thinking to himself that 'they had looked at and — Stephen E. Ambrose, Band of Brothers: E Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne from Normandy to Hitler's Eagle's Nest
Marriage: a deeply peculiar and ultimately unkind thing to inflict on anyone one claims to care for. — Alain de Botton, The Course of Love
while people go on chatting about a million and one thingsI mostly sit and observe with ascended understandingsas they b — Jarett Sabirsh, Love All-Knowing: An Epic Spiritual Poem
We can’t try to outguess them anymore. Sometimes they do things just to make me do the opposite of what they think I thi — James Dashner, The Death Cure
And as the ax bites into the wood, be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul m — Paul Harding, Tinkers
Me, I'm living under a sword too, as Jack may have told you. An old wino's disease, which could lay me in the grave most — Edward Abbey, Postcards from Ed: Dispatches and Salvos from an American Iconoclast
The question was not death; living things die. It was love. Not that we died, but that we cared wildly, then deeply, for — Annie Dillard, The Maytrees
life is a battle. it is a struggle renting us time against darkness. It's a fight it will never win. And still in fights — Peter Callaway
No one, in the end, made it out of this life alive. — Garth Risk Hallberg, City on Fire
The question was not death; living things die. It was love. Not that we died, but what we cared wildly, then deeply, for — Annie Dillard, The Maytrees
But to elude deathis not easy: attempt it who will,he shall go to the place prepared for eachof the sons of men, the sou — Michael Alexander, Beowulf
A shapeless figure bent over him, he smelt the fresh leather of the revolver belt; but what insignia did the figure wear — Arthur Koestler, Darkness at Noon