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Oblivion Quotes

[Horror fiction] shows us that the control we believe we have is purely illusory, and that every mom...

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But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some...

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No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we ...

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I looked over at Augustus Waters, who looked back at me. You could almost see through his eyes they ...

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I'm in love with you," he said quietly."Augustus," I said."I am," he said. He was staring at me, and...

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Because you’re beautiful. I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny...

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Picture of John Green (author)
John Green (author)The Fault in Our Stars

You gave me a forever within the numbered days and I'm grateful.

She smiles, and her eyes look as if they can see back into her memory, into all the things that have...

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I also remember being struck by de Sade's will, in which he asked that his ashes be scattered to the...

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All things fade into the storied past, and in a little while are shrouded in oblivion.

He looks at houses, chateaus, forests, and thinks about the countless generations who used to see th...

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On his thirteenth birthday he had seen a film in which the central character was a painter who, unab...

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but as he plodded along a vague and almost hallucinatory pall hazed over his mind; he found himself ...

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Picture of Philip K. Dick
Philip K. DickDo Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

I can’t bear the thought of oblivion, Asriel,” she continued. “Sooner anything than that. I used to ...

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What if you had once seen hell open, and all the damned there in their easeless torments, and had he...

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Picture of Richard Baxter
Richard BaxterThe Saints' Everlasting Rest

He was nothing but a conduit, after all, and there isn't a culvert in the world that remembers the w...

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What matters is at the end of life, when you're about to pass into oblivion, that you've at least sc...

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Picture of William Faulkner
William FaulknerLion in the Garden: Interviews with William Faulkner

Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.