Drink the sun’s warmth and the moon’s icy glitter, and taste that which the dead and the yet-to-be-born cannot: the pote — Emmanuelle de Maupassant, The Gentlemen's Club
Drink the sun’s warmth and the moon’s icy glitter, and taste that which the dead and the yet-to-be-born cannot: the pote — Emmanuelle de Maupassant, The Gentlemen's Club
Drink the sun’s warmth and the moon’s icy glitter, and taste that which the dead and the yet-to-be-born cannot: the pote — Emmanuelle de Maupassant, The Gentlemen's Club
Drink the sun’s warmth and the moon’s icy glitter, and taste that which the dead and the yet-to-be-born cannot: the pote — Emmanuelle de Maupassant, The Gentlemen's Club
Drink the sun’s warmth and the moon’s icy glitter, and taste that which the dead and the yet-to-be-born cannot: the pote — Emmanuelle de Maupassant, The Gentlemen's Club
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Drink the sun’s warmth and the moon’s icy glitter, and taste that which the dead and the yet-to-be-born cannot: the potency of this world.

— Emmanuelle de Maupassant, The Gentlemen's Club
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dead life living moon sensuality sun

More “Dead” Quotes

Call me crotchety, but I didn’t like being bossed around, especially before I’d injected caffeine into my system. Violet — Ann Charles, Dead Case in Deadwood
For some stupid reason, I had this irrational need to prove to Cooper that I could inspect dead bodies over black coffee — Ann Charles, Dead Case in Deadwood
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Memory is a time capsule — it records the wounds inflicted upon human consciousness.
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She knew a thing she should have known all along: that dead people are like wax memory-you take them in your mind, you s — Ray Bradbury, I Sing the Body Electric! & Other Stories
The memory of the dead is indeed a good remorse. (Le souvenir des morts - Est bien un bon remords) — Charles de Leusse, Le Sablier
I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swe — Christopher Pike, Whisper of Death
I knew that I would know more dead people. The bodies pile up. Could there be a space in my memory for each of them, or — John Green, Looking for Alaska
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