
If you stop tellin’ people it’s all sorted out after they’re dead,
they might try sorting it all out while they’re alive.

If you stop tellin’ people it’s all sorted out after they’re dead,
they might try sorting it all out while they’re alive.

ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOMEDAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS.
Death took a step backwards.
It was impossible to read expression in Azrael’s features.
Death glanced sideways at the servants.
LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?
Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man
this thing of darkness
I acknowledge mine

Turner: You’re funny. You take pictures of empty streets and trees with no leaves on them.
Kathy: It’s winter.
Turner: Not quite winter. They look like November. Not autumn, not winter. In-between.
I like them.Kathy: Thanks.
Kathy: Sometimes I take a picture that isn’t like me, but I took it so it is like me. It has to be.
I put those pictures away.Turner: I’d like to see those pictures.
Kathy: We don’t know each other that well.
Turner: Do you know anybody that well?