Some day soon, reaper, your mouth is going to be the source of your own destruction. " "That does seem likely, doesn’t it?" Tod glanced at me and shrugged. "Until then, it remains a source of my own amusement.
So, 'reaper' is really just a nice word for 'covert pervert?' Is that what you're saying?
"I spent two hours trying to question reapers without sounding like I was questioning them. What do you think it says about us as a group, that every reaper I know is either irritable, egotistical, voyeuristic, or some combination of the three?" "That you fit in well?"
I have been taunting the Reaper into taking a free scythe in my direction and have now succumbed to something so predictable and banal that it bores even me.
The Grim Reaper doesn't disappear. . . he catches up.
Poverty is a reaper: it harvests everything inside us that might have made us capable of social intercourse with others, and leaves us empty, purged of feeling, so that we may endure all the darkness of the present day.
Will the real Red Reaper please stand up?
Just FYI, in your case, I think it’s okay to fear the reaper.
The world's worst is when you find yourself going like Mother Hubbard and cupping your hand behind your ear. I was a major glutton for volume: 'Gotta feel it, gotta hear it. ' Sooner or later you're going to pay the reaper.
The reaper does not listen to the harvest.
We don't beat the Reaper by living longer. We beat the Reaper by living well.
A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me. )
I'ma do my thing until the day the reaper come for me. You can keep on grillin', I'ma smile back.
What can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the Reaper Man?
L, do you know reapers (shinigami) only eat apples?
Reaper of enemies; strong of grip; One kind with his fathers.
Just another part of that Spartan killer instinct. I can slay the ladies just as well as I can reapers.
Never so sweet a repast as the Reaper's when you tread upon the threshold of a Quiznos.
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.
