Lucretius Quotes

Thunder and lightning, it's like the end of the world.

When she awoke, the world was on fire.

The world was floods above and fire below

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.

The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places, it was burned. There were black crumbs, and pepper, streaked across the redness.

The world is on fire.

The whole world is a disaster waiting to happen.

The whole world's on fire.

The world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames.

I feel like the world has just become a polyester suit that's smoldering, melting, and at some point we have to figure out how to extinguish it.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurour and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man!

The most appropriate type of daily life for me was a day-by-day world destruction; peace was the most difficult and abnormal state to live in.

The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car

This storm you talk of . . .t will be such a one, my son, as the world has not seen before. There will be no safety by arms, no help from authority, no answer in science. It will rage till every flower of culture is trampled, and all human things are leveled in a vast chaos.

As my early drawings warned me, where humans go, lions and tidal waves follow.

Perfect order is the forerunner of perfect horror.

You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.

It is truly bracing and instructive to contemplate the End Times - at least at safe remove, in the pages of fiction - especially as the world beyond our hearths churns and convulses unknowably, yet perhaps just short of ultimate disaster.

When hopes and dreams are loose in the streets, it is well for the timid to lock doors, shutter windows and lie low until the wrath has passed. For there is often a monstrous incongruity between the hopes, however noble and tender, and the action which follows them. It is as if ivied maidens and garlanded youths were to herald the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

Near the gates and within two cities there will be scourges the like of which was never seen: famine within plague, people put out by steel, crying to the great immortal God for relief.

We imagine 'the end' as a world-devastating event, but every time there's a terrible earthquake, a tsunami, an outbreak of disease - that's apocalyptic, on a micro-scale.

Michael Jackson loved epic symbols. In his shows and his videos, he always destroyed or salvaged worlds; he was the hero of parables about street violence, sexual combat, war and natural disaster. It was always apocalypse or apotheosis now.

The species will continue, whatever apocalypse we manage to unleash. It just won't be much fun to live through.

Could this be the Apocalypse ?

I can see we're in for a fabulous evening's apocalypse.