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"The end is near," Moridin said. "The Wheel has groaned its final rotation, the clock has lost its spring, the serpent heaves its final gasps. He must know pain of heart. He must know frustration, and he must know anguish. Bring these to him. And you will be rewarded."
--
Moridin, Nae'blis, speaking to the Forsaken Graendal

 

Robert Jordan

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I flew all the way from Flagstaff, Arizona to Phoenix, Arizona because my manager doesn't own a globe. We flew on a plane that big, like a pack of gum with eight people in it, just (imitates sound of a tiny airplane). We took off from the Flagstaff Airport, Hair Care and Tire Center there. We were going half the speed of smell. We got passed by a kite. There was a goose behind us, the pilot was screaming, "Go around! Go around!" On the way there, we lost some oil pressure in one of the engines, so we had to turn around. It's a 9-minute flight...can't pull it off with this equipment. And they told us about it over the speaker system of the plane, which was stupid because they coulda just went [looks backward] "Hey, we lost some oil pressure." [gives a thumbs-up] Heard ya! Sure did. Everybody else was panicking, but I'd been drinking since lunch, so I was like, "Take it down, I don't care." Ever have one of those days? "Hit somethin' hard, I don't wanna limp away from this piece of shit." The guy sitting next to me is losing his mind; apparently, he had a lot to live for. He turns to me, he says "Hey man! [gasps for air] Hey, man! Hey, man! [gasps for air] If one of these engines fails, [gasps for air] how far will the other one take us?" [As himself]"All the way to the scene of the crash! Which is pretty handy, 'cause that's where we're headed. I bet we beat the paramedics there by a half-hour! We're haulin' ass!"

 

Ron White

 

The reason for his taking "Kalki" as a pen name was based on the myth of the "Kalki Avataram" (the final incarnation of Lord Vishnu, in the age of Kali). Through his writings, he wanted to bring about change in this age.

 

Kalki (R. Krishnamurthy) Krishnamurthy

 

"Wait," she gasps.
"What?" I moan, puzzled but almost there.
"Luis is a despicable twit," she gasps, trying to push me out of her.
"Yes," I say, leaning on top of her, tonguing her ear. "Luis is a despicable twit. I hate him too," and now, spurred on by her disgust for her wimp boyfriend, I start moving faster, my climax approaching.
"No, you idiot," she groans. "I said Is it a receptacle tip? Not 'Is Luis a despicable twit.' Is it a receptacle tip? Get off me."
"Is what a what? I moan.
"Pull out," she groans, struggling.
"I'm ignoring you," I say, moving my mouth down on her small perfect nipples, both of them stiff, sitting on hard, big tits.
"Pull out, goddamnit!" she screams.
"What do you want, Courtney?" I grunt, slowing my thrusts down until I finally straighten up and then I'm just kneeling over her, my cock still half inside. She hunches back against the headboard and my dick slides out.

 

Bret Easton Ellis

 

So she said banteringly: "What's the unit of exchange in this different world of yours?"
He did not hesitate. "The tear."
"It isn't fair," she objected. "Some people have to work very hard for a tear. Others can have them just for thinking."
"What system of exchange is fair?" he cried, and his voice sounded as if he were really drunk. "And whoever invented the concept of fairness, anyway? Isn't everything easier if you simply get rid of the idea of justice altogether? You think the quantity of pleasure, the degree of suffering is constant among all men? It somehow comes out in the end? You think that? If it comes out even it's only because the final sum is zero."

 

Paul Bowles

 

Now Tom was - the hell with that, he said to himself. It is something that happens to everybody. I should know about that by now. It is the only thing that is really final, though.
How do you know that? he asked himself. Going away can be final. Walking out the door can be final. Any form of real betrayal can be final. Dishonesty can be final. Selling out is final. But you are just talking now. Death is what is really final.

 

Ernest Hemingway