Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die. — Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth
Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die. — Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth
Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die. — Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth
Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die. — Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth
Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die. — Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth
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Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die.

— Rick Riordan, The Battle of the Labyrinth
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More “Death” Quotes

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes into hours. It is all still the same. Or it no longer is. If I were to ask what ha — Namrata, Time's Lost Atlas
For the sake of goodness and love, man shall grant death no dominion over his thoughts. — Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain
You can't stay young forever. Being young is a privilege. God knows, how many of them in their death bed wished to be yo — Diyar Harraz, Like The Starlings
Sam studied his brother. At one time he thought Frankie had a good head on his shoulders. Sure, he had a temper. And he — Holly Hood
Perhaps it was the approach of death that had opened his eyes wide and made him see so clearly. — Francine Rivers, A Voice in the Wind
don't look in my eyes you will fall into a deep well and drown — d nasty
Dead. The words fall from my tongue and linger there like poison. A slow death hanging from my lips. I shake the thought — Celia McMahon, Skye
Don't burn the corpse!Zombies don't like fire! — Anthony T Hincks
First the mania for confession,then the mania for clarity,issued from you, dark, hypocriticalsentiment! Let them nowcond — Pier Paolo Pasolini, Selected Poems
Chained inside the carriage is a sinful woman. When we set the carriage afire, her flesh will be roasted, her bones will — Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, Hell Screen
Surely this is what death would be like: nothingness, oblivion, as the world continued to turn, heedless of her absence. — Meredith Duran, At Your Pleasure
Who shall tell the lady's griefWhen her Cat was past relief?Who shall number the hot tearsShed o'er her, beloved for yea — Christina Rossetti