Death began to look like a friend. — Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
Death began to look like a friend. — Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
Death began to look like a friend. — Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
Death began to look like a friend. — Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
Death began to look like a friend. — Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
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Death began to look like a friend.

— Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
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More “Death” Quotes

Life’s just a sacrifice, a ransomWe pay to Death for Love to save,Which turns to be as great as handsomeTo get a blessin — Tatyana K. Varenko, Elfineness
She was smiling as she imagined herself as one more star in the sea of millions, and her body decided it had had enough, — Marissa Meyer, The Little Android
His own true hidden reality that he had desired to know grew palpable, recognizable. It seemed to him just this: a great — Clemence Housman, The Were-Wolf
War is hell, but sometimes in the midst of that hell men do things that heaven itself must be proud of. A hand grenade i — Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark
Blood was the mortar that cemented the kingdom — Jocelyn Murray, The Gilded Mirror: Constantinople
Being smart takes patience. Being wise takes pain. Being apathetic takes practice. Being in love takes everything...away — Dave Matthes, In This House, We Lived, and We Died
Cry no tears for us, my friend.” I pry at her fingers, panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death — Nathan Reese Maher
You see death is a tool to degrade and destroy people, I see it as a life lesson that I use to empower myself and I remi — Angel Ramon Medina, Revenge of the Gloobas: The Third Book of the Thousand Years War Series
Death was a friend, and sleep was Death's brother. — John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
But I was awake, sitting by the window looking down at the trailer and Mr. Zoltan's truck. I could not sleep. That is ho — Gene Wolfe, American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940's Until Now
Lastly he looked at the face so caved and drawn among the folds of funeral cloth, the yellowed moustache, the eyelids pa — Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses
Death is the final sleep that you never awaken from. — Steven Magee