Best 462 quotes in «apocalypse quotes» category

The world hast fast to pass away- And cannot comprehend the things that are promised to the righteous in time to come: for this world is full of unrighteousness and infirmities.

The world is a clock winding down. I hear it in the wind’s icy fingers scratching against the window. I smell it in the mildewed carpeting and the rotting wallpaper of the old hotel. And I feel it in Teacup’s chest as she sleeps. The hammering of her heart, the rhythm of her breath, warm in the freezing air, the clock winding down.

The world is going to shit on a silver platter. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if we can survive the week.

The world may be about to end, but if it's going to end, we'll goddamn well give it our best shot first. And this is the place to do it.

The world’s refusal to leave me out of its activities made me consider its destruction. Bring on the wave. Please, the asteroid.

They are times appointed for men, and (for) the pilgrimage. And it is not righteousness that you enter the house by their backs but he is righteous who keeps his duty. And go into the houses by their doors; and keep your duty to Allah, that you may be successful.

The Younger Dryas impacts, and subsequent sustained cataclysm, changed the face of the earth completely and wrought particularly significant havoc across North America. We have considered the question of huge volumes of meltwater released into the Arctic and Atlantic Oceans from the destabilized ice sheet and looked at the effects on global climate. But keep in mind that those enormous floods also devastated the rich North American mainland to the south, perhaps the best and most bounteous real estate then available anywhere. This immense and extraordinary deluge, 'possibly the largest flood in the history of the world,' swept away and utterly demolished everything that lay in its path. Jostling with icebergs, choked by whole forests ripped up by their roots, turbulent with mud and boulders swirling in the depths of the current, what the deluge left behind can still be seen in something of its raw form in the Channeled Scablands of the state of Washington today--a devastated blank slate [...] littered with 10,000-ton 'glacial erratics,' immense fossilized waterfalls, and 'current ripples' hundreds of feet long and dozens of feet high. If there were cities there, before the deluge, they would be gone. If there was any evidence of anything that we would recognize as technology there, before the deluge, it would be gone.

They that be born in the strength of youth are of one fashion, and they that are born in the time of age, when the womb fail, are otherwise.

They walked out into the first morning after the apocalypse - a day that had just barged in sweaty and unkempt like a late commuter, asking, Anything happen while I was out?

Thine own things, and such as are grown up with thee, canst thou not know; How should thy vessel then be able to comprehend the way of the Highest, and, the world being now outwardly corrupted to understand the corruption that is evident in my sight?

Things are different here. There will be rules and regulations that you are not used to. You will have to follow them. All of them.

This past year - if you'd have tried, you'd have seen even more clearly the futility of trying to change the world without the efforts of everybody else on Earth. You saw and smelled and drank the evidence of six billion disasters that can only be mended by six billion people. || A thousands years ago this wouldn't have been the case. If human beings had suddenly vanished a thousand years ago, the planet would have healed overnight with no damage. Maybe a few lumps where the pyramids sand. One hundred years ago - or even fifty years ago - the world would have healed itself just fine in the absence of people. But not now. We crossed the line. the only thing that can keep the planet turning smoothly now is human free will forged into effort. Nothing else. That's why the world has seemed so large in the past few years, and time so screwy. It's because Earth is now totally ours.

This isn't the same world it was yesterday.

This thing was what existed before life, before the first stars, before the big bang. It was the emptiness before the universe, and the emptiness that would follow.

Those crazy physicists that spend all day cooking themselves under an atomic reactor and all night writing stories for Weird World have done it. Spoiled my day completely. One of those idiots has hung the world up like a celluloid ball in an airstream.

Thou art sore troubled in mind for the people in the world’s sake: loves thou that people better than he that made them?

Thoughts have power, influencing humanity's collective path. The difference between Mother Teresa and Adolf Hitler lies, ultimately, in how they thought. A thought can change the world for the better—or damn it forever.

Thou hast given a right judgment, but why judge thou not thyself also?

Three of them, dressed in silvery gray, on three horses—one black, one white, and the third red.

Thy heart had gone too far in this world, and think thou to comprehend the way of the most High?

Till her appointed course be run; Till on the darkness faint her breath Flown to the silent void, and Death Sit crowned upon the ashen sun. (“The Testimony of the Suns”)

Time for the world to end.

To conceive of a god in one’s image is already quite a feat for inflated egos. To imagine, however, that this likeness has chosen your generation amongst the thousands for ending the party is to bring the egocentrism to new heights.

Too long right and wrong, good and evil have been inverted by false prophets! Compton

Too long the dead hand has been permitted to sterilize living thought! Compton

To shew thee such tokens I have leave; and if thou wilt pray again, and weep as now, and fast even days, thou shall hear yet greater things.

To stop. To cease, just for a moment. To turn your back on the world, to close your eyes - to see the nothing that is not rather than the nothing that is everywhere around you. To just be quiet in your mind for a little minute. There are paradises even yet on the abandoned plains of the earth -- and they are not filled with fecund flowering Edens but rather just with sweet unerring silences.

This plague... This curse... I have an idea where it came from. I don't think it's from any spell or virus or nuclear rays. I think it's from a deeper place. I think we brought it here. I think we crushed ourselves down over the centuries. Buried ourselves under greed and hate and whatever other sins we could find until our souls finally hit the rock bottom of the universe. And then they scraped a hole through it, into some... dark place. We released it. We poked through the seabed and the oil erupted, painted us black, pulled our inner sickness out for everyone to see. Now here we are in this dry corpse of a world, rotting on our feet till there's nothing left but bones and the buzz of flies.

Under the guise of helping the sick, oppressed and hopeless, psychiatry is paving the way for authoritarian governments to suppress a whole society furthermore, with drugs and obscene practices that promote, not only hypnotic suggestions, but also highly suggestible individuals which, otherwise, would oppose a whole repressive system that threatens both their existence and the existence of future generations on Earth. And so, one can very well say that, psychiatry, aided by pharmaceutical corporations and power-driven governments, or merely governments fearful of their own people and the extinction of immoral politics, will contribute vastly to the extermination and full extinction of the human race.

Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun: But if a man live many years, and rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days of darkness; for they shall be many. And all that cometh is vanity.

Verily it is a foolish thought that they both have devised, for the ground is given unto the wood, and the sea also had its place to bear its floods.

We are used to the thought that we’ll go to Heaven if we avoid sins or have our pastor remove them. To labor ourselves into paradise is a new and somewhat discouraging perspective.

We have adorned the lower heaven with an adornment, the star- They cannot listen to the exalted assembly and they are reproached from every side.

Weigh thou therefore their wickedness now in the balance, and theirs also that dwell the world; and so shall thy name no where be found anymore.

We parade our inner selves which are revealed to be no more than loyalty to a sect of compatible brands. When we see ourselves and the world around us we do not recognize the sacred. Our culture has devoured itself.

We pass away out of the world as grasshoppers, and our life is astonishment and fear, and we are not worthy to obtain mercy.

We’re in an underground vault, and here’s my first order: You’re going to do everything I tell you to do.

We've been around for a long time, Mr. Dowell. Longer than you or any of your stupid little friends could ever conceive. Sleeping in the shadows and waiting for the right moment. A disease you might call us. A plague. Evil. From beneath the ground, it rises as it has done many times in the past.

We wrap up our violent and mysterious world in a pretense of understanding. We paper over the voids of our comprehension with science and religion, and make believe that order has been imposed. And, for the most of it, the fiction works. We skim across the surfaces, heedless of the depths below. Dragonflies flitting over a lake, miles deep, pursuing erratic paths to pointless ends. Until that moment when something from the cold unknown reaches up to take us. The biggest lies we save for ourselves. We play a game in which we are gods, in which we make choices, and the current follows in our wake. We pretend a separation from the wild. Pretend that a man’s control runs deep, that civilization is more than a veneer, that reason will be our companion in dark places.

What did you do for them, Bone? Teach them to read and write? Help them rebuild, give the, Christ, help restore a culture? Did you remember to warn the, that it could never be Eden?

What did you do for them, Bone? Teach them to read and write? Help them rebuild, give them Christ, help restore a culture? Did you remember to warn them that it could never be Eden?

What is about to happen is not the reclaiming of Earth by a triumphant Mother Nature, a karmic repudiation of humanity's arrogant ill stewardship. Nothing we ever did mattered one way or another. This event has always been in the cards for man's planet, for the whole scope of our history, coming regardless of what we did or didn't do.

What lies beneath has pushed its way to the surface once again. Time to get away while there is still air left in our lungs.

What man is able to do that, that thou should ask such things of me?

What silence rules the ghostly hours That guard the close of human sleep! (“The Testimony of the Suns”)

What's the deal with the bossman?" Urian asked him. Alexion shrugged. "I don't know. He came in last night with a book, went to his room to read, I suppose, and then he came out here this morning and has been playing . . . those songs ever since." Those songs were ballads, which Acheron never played. God-smack, Sex Pistols, TSOL, Judas Priest, but not . . . "Is that . . ." Urian physically cringed before he spat out the name, "Julio Iglesias?" "Enrique." Urian grimaced in horror. "I didn't even know he knew any mellow shit. Dear gods . . .is he ill?" "I don't know. In nine thousand years, I've never seen him like this before." Urian shuddered. "I'm beginning to get scared. This has to be a sign of the Apocalypse. If he breaks out into Air Supply, I say we sneak up on him, drag him outside and beat the holy shit out of him.

What’s the goal?” asked Carlos. “I’m glad you asked,” said Harry. You – all of you – and I – we’re going to save the world.

What we are looking for [...] is an agent capable--simultaneously and almost instantaneously--of bringing about all of the following: -a global flood -wildfires across an area of 10 million km2 -6 months of icy darkness followed by more than 1,000 years of glacially cold weather -a stratum of soil across more than 50 million km2 dated to the Younger Dryas Boundary (YDB) and infused with a cocktail of nanodiamonds, high-temperature iron-rich spherules, glassy silica-rich spherules, meltglass, platinum, iridium, osmium, and other exotic materials -a mass extinction of megafauna Wolfbach and her coauthors are forthright in their conclusion: 'Multiple lines of ice-core evidence appear synchronous, and this synchroneity of multiple events makes the YD interval one of the most unusual climate episodes in the entire Quaternary record. ... A cosmic impact is the only known event capable of simultaneously producing the collective evidence.

What will he then do unto his name whereby we are called? ...of these things have I asked.

Whenever, therefore, a lie has built unto itself a throne, let it be assailed without pity and without regret, for under the domination of an inconvenient falsehood, no one can prosper. Compton