Best 462 quotes in «apocalypse quotes» category

... death does not bring the life of a man to an end; it only opens the door to a higher form of life.

Death, man must face...

Don’t do anything stupid.", FADE by Kailin Gow

Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost memories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreams play when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

During the persecutions under the Emperor Domitian, John was summoned to Rome, where he was tortured by immersion in a pot of boiling oil and subsequently banished to the island of Patmos in the Aegean sea. It was there he wrote his Apocalypse. It was only after the death of Domitian, in A.D. 96, that he returned to Ephesus, where he was still living during the reign of the Emperor Trajan (A.D. 98-117). He became so old and frail that he could no longer walk and had to be carried to meetings and services. All he could manage to say was, "My little children, love one another." He repeated this over and over.

Even so have I given the womb of the earth to those that be sown in it in their times.

Descriptions of a killer global flood that inundated the inhabited lands of the world turn up everywhere amongst the myths of antiquity. In many cases these myths clearly hint that the deluge swept away an advanced civilization that had somehow angered the gods, sparing 'none but the unlettered and the uncultured' and obliging the survivors to 'begin again like children in complete ignorance of what happened ... in early times'. Such stories turn up in Vedic India, in the pre-Columbian Americas, in ancient Egypt. They were told by the Sumerians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Arabs and the Jews. They were repeated in China and south-east Asia, in prehistoric northern Europe and across the Pacific. Almost universally, where truly ancient traditions have been preserved, even amongst mountain peoples and desert nomads, vivid descriptions have been passed down of global floods in which the majority of mankind perished.

Despair haunts those who know the cost being exacted from this earth. They are driven by pain, rage and despair, they hurt. We have a duty to them, and all those who suffer, drawing no distinction between spirit, animal, plant, stone or man. What drives us is our blood, the passions and emotions are our power which makes it sing with fire. Like the land, these passions are not owned by individuals, but are subsumed in Love, shared in communion; we are the daughters and the sons of comfort. Life itself it at state in not some longed-for Apocalypse which opens into a Golden Age, but the betrayal of our ancestors and our duty of care, of balance. We will not watch as the final price is exacted in the blood of all living things. Without action, these will be the last hundred years, not just of man, but of all life.

Did not the souls also of the righteous ask question of these things in their chambers, saying, "How long shall I hope on this fashion?" when cometh the fruit of the floor of our reward?

Did Bach ever eat pancakes at midnight?

Doomsday sells, but doesn’t ring with truth. Could it be that the Apocalypse is a personal eschatology?

Every day is a lie, he said. But you are dying. That is not a lie.

Everything's going to be okay', because that's what I wanted him to say and it's what he wanted to say and that's what you do when the curtain is falling — you give the line that the audience wants to hear.

Everyone is dangerous in here, can’t you see that?” he warned.

Everywhere, the destruction is the same. The fire is raining down. People are panicking. There’s worse than that too, because other natural disasters are rising up.", FADE by Kailin Gow

Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be not dismayed; for I am thy...! I will strengthen thee; yea; I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness; Behold, all they that were incensed against thee shall be confounded; they shall be as nothing; and they that strive with thee shall perish...

Fight not with them at the Sacred Mosque until they fight with you in it; So if they fight you (in it), slay them. Such is the recompense of the disbelievers.

For Alwyn's grandfather, who was known as "the greatest talker in the country," used words which no one else understood, words which he did not understand, and words which do not exist, to swell a passionate theme, to confound his neighbors in an argument, and for their own sake. He would say, for example, "My farm was the very apocalypse of fertility, but the renter has rested on his oars till it is good for nothing," or "Manifest the bounty to pass the salt shaker in my direction." Something of the Bible, something of an Irish inheritance, something of a liar's anxiety, made of his most ordinary remark a strange and wearisome oratory.

For I stand forth to challenge the wisdom of the world; to interrogate the "laws" of man and "You"! Compton

Forse è scoppiata, la Bomba, fuori dalla mia coscienza. Anzi, è così certamente. E la fine del Mondo è già accaduta: una cosa muta, calata nel controluce del crepuscolo. Ombra, chi opera in questa èra. Ah, sacro Novecento, regione dell’anima in cui l’Apocalisse è un vecchio evento!

From the beginning, look, what thou desires to see, it shall be shew thee.

Gather around me, Oh! ye death-defiant, and the earth itself shall be thine, to have and to hold! Compton

Getting drunk every Friday night and thinking that it's normal, only to get mad every Monday, looks normal only because most people are insane. It becomes abnormal when it affects your relationships and you push people you want away with a smile and cry when they're gone. That's when a person should question her own sanity. If that still doesn't make one question it, then that's a very deep stage of insanity. That's not life. That's the scenario for an apocalyptic movie.

Get off! Get off me, ‘Felix sobbed, sounding like a little kid. Marco kicked at the sickos, slashing with his knife. It was no good, though— there were just too many of them — and he himself toppled over, landing on his friend and smothering him. ‘It’s all right Felix, ‘he said. ‘I’m with you. It’s all right. You’re not alone. ‘He felt for Felix’s hand held it tight, as more gym bunnies blocked out the light, swamping them.

Given the chance, would I go back? Back to the time when my parents were alive? When my biggest problem was a past-due paper? When I didn't need to know how to take care of myself, ride a horse, or defend someone I loved? Back to the time when I didn't know Grey?

Go thy way, and tell my people, the people of thy Lord God what manner of things, and how great wonders of the Lord thy God, thou hast seen.

Go thy way, weigh me the weight of the fire, or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past.

Go thy way to a woman with child, and ask of her when she had fulfilled her nine months, if her womb may keep the birth any longer within her.

Hardly has the universe stretched its wings to span When it gathers to egg once more

He grumbles incoherently, opens the window a fraction and continues to smoke away. It’s like every time Sidney Drake enters a new location he has to readjust the atmosphere, akin to one of those sci-fi shows where they oxygenate the planet, but for my dad it’s in a suffocating reverse. He replaces the clean wholesome air with a non-stop puff of toxic poison.

He looked at the sky once more. Men had gone out there, he thought in wonder, and couldn't think why. Singly and in small groups they had gone into strange lands, across wide seas, had climbed mountains where no human foot had ever trod. And he couldn't think why they had done these things. What impulse had driven them from their own kind to perish alone, or among strangers.

Here and there, plumes of dark smoke reach into the sky like the fingers of a drowning man reaching up for the last time.

Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.

He shall rule, whom they look not for that dwell upon the earth, and the fowls shall take their flight away together:

He that is slow to believe anything and everything is of great understanding, for belief in one false principle is the beginning of all unwisdom. Compton

He went to make coffee. Because when you have just heard about the possible transformation of the human race into feral monsters you need to be doing something with your hands and creating something hot and comforting for another person.

He whispered for her ears only as he listed off the facts: “Military are allowed a larger portion. Being second in command restricts me from no room and giving orders is what I’ve been hired to do. As far as ignoring you, that is not the case. I’ve checked up on you, and you are doing well. My intentions have never been to harm you or insult you. You actually are quite breathtaking in that dress and that is the problem, you need not draw attention to yourself. You are my responsibility and the answer to ‘why’ will always be because I have to.

History doesn’t start with a tall building and a card with your name written on it, but jokes do. I think someone is taking us for suckers and is playing a mean game.

His touch was like an electric current that ran through his fingers into my cheek and down the back of my neck. I took another step back, away from him. "Don't do that," I whispered and hated the part of myself that died for his soft touch. "Why? Why do you do things like that if you agree we shouldn't be involved? It's confusing and... and you make it so much worse." My words tumbled over each other as they poured from my mouth. He didn't reach for me again. His blue eyes were sad.

How, and when shall these things come to pass? wherefore are our years few and evil?

How would you know if you were the last man on Earth? He said. I don't guess you would know it. You'd just be it.

How would you rather die?" she snapped. "Hiding under your bed or riding Thunder Mountain?

Are you ready for the apocalypse?

I CALL on world believers of righteousness to wage 'all-out war' on the World Government, the infidels...

I blast out the ghastly contents of philosophically whited sepulchers and laugh with sardonic wrath! Compton

I beseech thee, O Lord, let me have understanding: For it was not my mind to be curious of the high things, but of such as pass by us daily.

I can't believe that we have reached the end of everything. The red dust is frightening. The carbon dioxide is real. Water is expensive. Bio-tech has created as many problems as it has fixed, but we're here, we're alive, we're the human race, we have survived wars and terrorism and scarcity and global famine, and we have made it back from the brink, not once but many times. History is not a suicide note - it's a record of our survival.

I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?” She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?

I come not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.

I'd be willing to bet that the notion of the end of time is more common today in the secular world than in the Christian. The Christian world makes it the object of meditation, but acts as if it may be projected into a dimension not measured by calendars. The secular world pretends to ignore the end of time, but is fundamentally obsessed by it. This is not a paradox, but a repetition of what transpired in the first thousand years of history. ... I will remind readers that the idea of the end of time comes out of one of the most ambiguous passages of John's text, chapter 20... This approach, which isn't only Augustine's but also the Church Fathers' as a whole, casts History as a journey forward—a notion alien to the pagan world. Even Hegel and Marx are indebted to this fundamental idea, which Pierre Teilhard de Chardin pursued. Christianity invented History, and it is in fact a modern incarnation of the Antichrist that denounces History as a disease. It's possible that secular historicism has understood history as infinitely perfectible—so that tomorrow we improve upon today, always and without reservation... But the entire secular world is not of the ideological view that through history we understand how to look at the regression and folly of history itself. There is, nonetheless, an originally Christian view of history whenever the signpost of Hope on this road is followed. The simple knowledge of how to judge history and its horrors is fundamentally Christian, whether the speaker is Emmanuel Mounier on tragic optimism or Gramsci on pessimism of reason and optimism of will.