Whatever you do, don't whimper, but take the consequences.
Many men would take the death-sentence without a whimper, to escape the life-sentence which fate carries in her other hand.
This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
Trillions of years into the future, when all stars are gone. . . all parts of the cosmos will cool to the same temperature as the ever-cooling background. At that time, space travel will no longer provide refuge because even Hell will have frozen over. We may then declare that the universe has died-not with a bang, but with a whimper.
The poems are all wrong. It's a bang, a really big bang. Not a whimper. And sometimes gold can stay.
This is the way the world really ends: not with whimper but a desperate chuckle.
If you start with a bang, you won't end with a whimper.
Am I tough? Am I strong? Am I hard-core? Absolutely. Did I whimper with pathetic delight when I sank my teeth into my hot fried-chicken sandwich? You betcha.
When you're five and you hurt, you make a big noise in the world. At ten you whimper. But by the time you make fifteen you begin to eat the poisoned apples that grow on your own inner tree of pain.
Braying of arrogant brass, whimper of querulous reeds.
