lyndsey

“No sight so sad as that of a naughty child," he began, "especially a naughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?"

"They go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer.

"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"

"A pit full of fire."

"And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?"

"No, sir."

"What must you do to avoid it?"

I deliberated a moment: my answer, when it did come was objectionable: "I must keep in good health and not die.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“I'm going up to my room now, where I may die.”
― Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

“We lose weeks like buttons, like pencils.”
― Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

“It is the desire for irreverence as much as anything else that brought me first to poetry. The need to make fun of authority, break taboos, celebrate the body and its functions, claim that one has seen angels in the same breath as one says that there is no god.”
― Charles Simic, The Monster Loves His Labyrinth