the world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
the world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
the world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
the world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
the world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
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the world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased

— J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
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More “Death” Quotes

They are both spectacular, Life and death. — Dejan Stojanovic, The Shape
Death swallows death. — Dejan Stojanovic, Circling: 1978-1987
There are thousands of words in the English language for acts of senseless violence, but not one seems to be a contestan — Chuck Bridges
Why must we be so restricted by language, these ruined tongues! These twenty-six letters- how can that explain this agon — Annie Fisher, The Greater Picture
The only thing I can recall is that it rained all day and all night, and that when I asked my father whether heaven was — Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind
For a long time, she sat and saw.She had seen her brother die with one eye open, on still in a dream. She had said goodb — Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what couldI tell her about those things tha — Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
Another deserted sentence. Another side effect of death. Words go AWOL. — Daisy Whitney, When You Were Here
But she went to tell the bees. She felt like an idiot doing it, but she'd promised. She remembered that it wasn't enough — Margaret Atwood, The Year of the Flood
You're like candy. People lick your knowledge to become wise, lick your words from your powerful mouth and say it even b — Michael Bassey Johnson
Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers. — Cornelia Funke
That night two lovers whispering under the lead canopy of the church were killed by their own passion. Their effusion of — Jeanette Winterson, Sexing the Cherry