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“Only the fire of life can melt the chains of death.”
― Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune

“Daughter, that's life: messy, confusing, heartbreaking, but wonderful.”
― P.C. Cast, Revealed

“Funerals are for the living. If we have not done for the dead while they were yet in flesh, it is too late; let the matter pass at the grave. Day by day we should live for those who are to die; and live so that we may die for those who are to live. Funerals are for the living.”
― Roelif Coe Brinkerhoff

“Reseph tried to convince one of my vamps to slip an aphrodisiac into my drink."

"Ares is quite fond of the orc-weed," Vulgrim called out from the kitchen, and yeah, there was a set of chains in the dungeon with his name on them.

Limos scowled. "What did your demon say?"

"Nothing," Ares muttered.”
― Larissa Ione, Eternal Rider

“It is possible, however, that the artist is both thin-skinned and prophetic and, like the canary lowered into the mine shaft to test the air, has caught a whiff of something lethal.”
― Walker Percy, Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book

“We must have a creature made of Darkness to break through the cage of Darkenss that imprisons your grandmother," Thanatos said.
"That creature is me." Aurox stepped forward.
"Oh, for shit's sake! We are absolutely fucked!" Aphrodite said.
Sadly I had to agree with her.”
― P.C. Cast, Hidden

“Virgin to father in zero to sixty”
― Larissa Ione

“You think that's enough? Do you know how many episode of Jersey Shore you can watch before you want to gouge your own eyes? i do, and it's probably a lot fewer than you guess.”
― Larissa Ione

“He loved the sea for deep-seated reasons: the hardworking artist's need for repose, the desire to take shelter from the demanding diversity of phenomena in the bosom of boundless simplicity, a propensity—proscribed and diametrically opposed to his mission in life and for that very reason seductive—a propensity for the unarticulated, the immoderate, the eternal, for nothingness. To repose in perfection is the desire of all those who strive for excellence, and is not nothingness a form of perfection?”
― Thomas Mann, Death in Venice

“Thanatos sering kali salah dikira sebagai Dewa Cinta. Persamaan Maut dengan Cinta lebih banyak daripada yang mungkin kalian bayangkan.”
― Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune

“What drove such people to their sinister occupations? Spite? Certainly, but also the desire for order. Because the desire for order tries to transform the human world into an inorganic reign in which everything goes well, everything functions as a subject of an impersonal will. The desire for order is at the same time a desire for death, because life is a perpetual violation of order. Or, inversely, the desire for order is a virtuous pretext by which man's hatred for man justifies its crimes.”
― Milan Kundera, Farewell Waltz

“Thanatos, der alles wusste, stieg in Erwartung des Kommenden die Niederenslinger Hügel hinauf zum Plateau, suchte einen Baumstrunk, setzte sich und wartete. Er trug einen schwarzen Aktenkoffer bei sich, der alle Geduld der Welt enthielt.”
― Helmut Krausser, Thanatos

“The revolution is for the sake of life, not death.”
― Herbert Marcuse, The Aesthetic Dimension: Toward a Critique of Marxist Aesthetics

“Dead of Winter:
We’d pushed them all day. Not that Thanatos needed rest. Thanatos bench pressed three eighty and ate bricks for fun.

They had better hope they couldn’t catch that stallion. Thanatos bench pressed three eighty and made Bagger Spam with his hooves.

Death had laughed at the idea of trailering his horse. Which was understandable, considering what that stallion had done to those chronicle-seeking clones.
Thanatos bench pressed three eighty and left us a pile of carnate chum

Arcana Rising:
Death charged into the clearing on Thanatos. The warhorse had survived as well. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Thanatos bench-pressed three-eighty and swished his tail at floods.”
― Kresley Cole, Dead of Winter

“And, in answering affirmatively to such questions, would not such despair further entrench us in this barbarism as we collectively foreclose upon the possibility of what seems to us impossible—the transformation from a society founded upon evil to one founded upon love? Perhaps even to suggest such a thing strikes us as maudlin and trite.

Yet, a path remains open for it, but not one we may wish to embark upon. It is the hope that I may suffer my apathy before barbarism’s decadence. Decadence concerns a collective stagnation of the will that no longer wills anything other than to will itself, i.e., to express its power for power’s sake in an infinite repetition of the same. In such a situation, I am left with the despair of an a-pathetic ego that concludes: “this is just the way things areâ€� or “it is what it is.â€� Suffering this apathy then means encountering a crossroads whereby I may either more fully assume the thanatonic and participate in the decadence of barbarism or, perhaps, allow this suffering to convert decadence into a crisis, turning from the crisis of crisis that is decadence and, thereby, also convert my a-pathy back toward a pathos that awakens me to this pernicious logic at work.”
― Brian W Becker, Evil and Givenness: The Thanatonic Phenomenon

“I don’t naturally look like this. I have to feed in order to have the power to hold it.â€�
“Feed on what exactly?� Please don’t say blood, please don’t say blood, she whispered in her mind.
“Death,â€� Trajan answered. Anya didn’t know if that was better or worse.”
― Amy Kuivalainen, Cry of the Firebird

“Para algunos, no puede haber amor verdadero sin la muerte; tal es el tema romántico por excelencia, el de Tristán e Isolda, el de Romeo y Julieta, el de Filemón y Baucis, el de los amantes de Mayerling.”
― Louis-Vincent Thomas, Antropologia de la muerte

“Non dimenticate mai quello che davvero conta, Vostra Altezza. La famiglia è tutto.”
― Alessia C. Meka, Thanatos

“And, in answering affirmatively to such questions, would not such despair further entrench us in this barbarism as we collectively foreclose upon the possibility of what seems to us impossible—the transformation from a society founded upon evil to one founded upon love? Perhaps even to suggest such a thing strikes us as maudlin and trite.

Yet, a path remains open for it, but not one we may wish to embark upon. It is the hope that I may suffer my apathy before barbarism’s decadence. Decadence concerns a collective stagnation of the will that no longer wills anything other than to will itself, i.e., to express its power for power’s sake in an infinite repetition of the same.25 In such a situation, I am left with the despair of an a-pathetic ego that concludes: “this is just the way things areâ€� or “it is what it is.â€� Suffering this apathy then means encountering a crossroads whereby I may either more fully assume the thanatonic and participate in the decadence of barbarism or, perhaps, allow this suffering to convert decadence into a crisis, turning from the crisis of crisis that is decadence and, thereby, also convert my a-pathy back toward a pathos that awakens me to this pernicious logic at work.”
― Brian W Becker, Evil and Givenness: The Thanatonic Phenomenon

“. . . The idea that sex is something grave belongs to a certain Judeo-Christian superstition. Georges Bataille sees eroticism as a wound through which beings communicate violently, and [René] Étiemble reproaches him for his ‘inverted Christianity,â€� with his fascination for the Eros-Thanatos pair. True eroticism is gentle, airy, innocent. Even Sade looks still far too Catholic. We’ve got to de-dramatize. Think of springtime warmth, when the air becomes a vehicle for pollen and the perfume of vigorous activity: ‘All that wonderful awakening of April and May is the vast expanse of sex that proposes voluptuousness sotto voce.â€� Let’s not be afraid to be as naive as flowers: pants off and under the sun. Let’s be as simple as doves: let’s mate without fear. Future purity consists of merging with that ‘endless sex orgyâ€� With movies in between.â€�

The corpus cavernosum has not left the caves. It’s less than the shadow of a shadow. Now we only talk about the sex of the angels—without flesh nor pregnancies, without history nor intimacy, beyond the female and the male, far from marriage and circumcision (a pure spirit has no foreskin). But even angels still have too much consistency. And besides, we don’t believe in them. Rather, let’s compare our sex to Lichtenberg’s famous knife, ‘without a blade, for which the handle is missing’—a knife that cuts nothingâ€�”
― Fabrice Hadjadj, La Profondeur des sexes: Pour une mystique de la chair

“Je me demande quelle qualité tu peux bien avoir pour que nous acceptions de te remettre notre fils, Antéros, à Aphrodite la Céleste et à moi, Arès, Fléau des hommes, assène-t-il avec toute l’autorité possible. Antéros est l’un de nos cinq enfants bien-aimés, tendre et vicieux tout à la fois.”
― Liv Stone, Insoumise Méroé

“Happiness is elusive and protean. And it is sterile when devoid of meaning. But meaning, when it is set in the vast arena of war with its high stakes, it’s adrenaline-driven rushes, it’s bold sweeps and drama, is heartless and self-destructive. The initial selflessness of war mirrors that of love, the chief emotion war destroys. And this is what war often looks and feels like, at it’s inception: love.”
― Chris Hedges, War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning

“Mortal, what hast thou of such grave concern
That thou indulgest in too sickly plaints?
Why this bemoaning and beweeping death?
For if thy life aforetime and behind
To thee was grateful, and not all thy good
Was heaped as in sieve to flow away
And perish unavailingly, why not,
Even like a banqueter, depart the halls,
Laden with life? why not with mind content
Take now, thou fool, thy unafflicted rest?
But if whatever thou enjoyed hath been
Lavished and lost, and life is now offence,
Why seekest more to add—which in its turn
Will perish foully and fall out in vain?
O why not rather make an end of life,
Of labour? For all I may devise or find
To pleasure thee is nothing: all things are
The same forever.”
― Lucretius, Of The Nature of Things