All has been looted, betrayed, sold; black death's wing flashed ahead.
I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won
If a Black Death could be spread throughout the world once in every generation survivors could procreate freely without making the world too full.
I guess I'm the Black Death,' he said slowly. 'I don't seem to bring people happiness any more.
The Egyptians had the locusts and in the Middle Ages there was the Black Death with the rats, but tourists are the plague of our century and we'll not survive this one.
Both of us victims of the same twentieth-century plague. Not the Black Death, this time; the Gray Life.
Ring around the rosie. A pocket full of posie. Ashes ashes, we all fall down. Some people say that this poem is about the Black Death, the fourteenth-century plague that killed 100-million people... Sadly, though, most experts think this is nonsense... How can I be so sure about this rhyme when all the experts disagree? Because I ate the kid who made it up.
We are all bound thither; we are hastening to the same common goal. Black death calls all things under the sway of its laws. [Lat., Tendimus huc omnes; metam properamus ad unam. Omnia sub leges mors vocat atra suas.]
I hope and trust to meet you in Heaven, both white and black-both white and black.
There is a list of things Im not allowed to discuss at the dinner table! I am extraordinarily passionate about the Black Death, which is not something most people are into.
Books have survived television, radio, talking pictures, circulars (early magazines), dailies (early newspapers), Punch and Judy shows, and Shakespeare's plays. They have survived World War II, the Hundred Years' War, the Black Death, and the fall of the Roman Empire. They even survived the Dark Ages, when almost no one could read and each book had to be copied by hand. They aren't going to be killed off by the Internet.
Wow. Nice bike,” I said. Which was a lie. It looked like a glossy black death trap.
When I say forever,' Koschei whispered, 'I mean until the black death of the world. An Ivan means just the present moment, the flickering light of it, in a green field, his mouth on yours. He means the stretching of that moment. But forever isn't bright; it isn't like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: