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Morgue Quotes

Browse 16 quotes about Morgue.

Morgue Quotes

“The light in that room was a glow; I seem to remember the color green, or perhaps flowers. A pale green sheet covered his inert body but not his head, which lay (eyes closed, mouth set in a tense and terrible grimace) unmoving. Gianluca. Barely able to see, barely able to stand - my knees kept buckling – and breathing so quietly I thought that I, too, might die; that out of shock, I would just drift away, the shell of my body cracking open. No longer anchored by my brother’s love, I would be reabsorbed by sky. Gianluca. If there was never another sound in the world, I would understand – yes, that would be appropriate, it would be fitting. This was the antithesis of music, the antithesis of noise. My brother’s death seemed to demand silence of all the world. Gianluca.”

LossGriefDespairDepressionHeartbreakSuicideMourningBereavementIdentificationMorgueAsphyxiationSibling LossViewingGassingHelium Suicide
Book:The Eclipse: A Memoir of Suicide
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“The morgue is a Victorian update of a system established by Alfred the Great. It's the place where certain deaths are resolved - those where the cause is unclear or is the result of some intended or accidental violence. The bodies are almost always victims in some way - of crime, suicides and car crashes, but also victims of loneliness. It's where you go if you die alone in your flat and your body lies undisturbed for days. It's where you go if no one knew you were dying and no GP attended your final hours. It's where you go if no loved one held your hand as you slipped away. In one way or another, then, all the people who pass through this room are the people who die screaming.”

DeathLonelinessMorguePost MortemCoroner
Author:Stephen Armstrong
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“From "Lady In Waiting" in the anthology The Morgue : Now I have yet to meet the corpse could hold up its end of a conversation, so at most I might whistle while fixin’ one up ‘stead of engagin’ myself in any small talk that’s goin’ to be so one-sided anyways. But Cindy Flowers’ corpse weren’t no ordinary body when it walked upright, and it sure weren’t ordinary just because it was lyin’ before me in a pine wood box. So for the first time I felt the need to get a few things said to one of our visitors, and I leaned down to get myself real close to her face. Her eyes was closed ‘cause Pa had already sewed her lids shut.”

HorrorAnthologyMorgueGoldman
Book:The Morgue: An Anthology
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“Many people detest Morgue. His most persistent enemies are conservatives and evangelical Christians. He makes their flesh crawl. He is everything they hate. They are intent on destroying him. They will succeed if his supporters do not do their duty and stand up for him against the trolls and saboteurs. This isn’t a game. This isn’t a drill. This is your life. What are you going to do with it?”

CommitmentTrollsMorgueTaking A StandHyperianism
Book:Take Them to the Morgue
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“The leader of Hyperianism never mentions Illuminism. Not ever. And that’s because, if he ever did, he would be exposed as a messenger for others rather than the Savior he wants to pose as. His own narcissism and Messiah Complex have destroyed him because they have made him constantly lie about the fundamental basis of Hyperianism. His egotism forbade him from accepting the role he was supposed to have – that of messenger. He didn’t have his own message; he was delivering the message of others. That’s the blunt fact of it. There is nobility and worth in the messenger role, but the leader of Hyperianism wasn’t satisfied. He was compelled to present himself as the Main Man. He never was, and never will be.”

MovementLeadersIlluminismMorgueHyperianism
Book:Without the Mob, There Is No Circus
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“One of the reasons I love Murder is that victims are, as a general rule, dead... I don't make a habit of sharing this, in case people take me fore a sicko or- worse-a wimp, but give me a dead child, any day, over a child sobbing his heart out while you make him tell you what the bad man did next. Dead victims don't show up outside HQ to beg for answers, you never have to nudge them into reliving every hideous moment, and you never have to worry, and you never have to worry about what it'll do to their lives if you fuck up. They stay put in the morgue, light-years beyond anything I can do right or wrong, and leave me free to focus on the people who sent them there.”

MurderMorgue
Book:Broken Harbour
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“I wanted to write an adventure story, not, it's true, I really did. I shall have failed, that's all. Adventures bore me. I have no idea how to talk about countries, how to make people wish they had been there. I am not a good travelling salesman. Countries? Where are they , whatever became of them. When I was twelve I dreamed of Hongkong. That tedious, commonplace little provincial town! Shops sprouting from every nook and cranny! The Chinese junks pictured on the lids of chocolate boxes used to fascinate me. Junks: sort of chopped-off barges, where the housewives do all their cooking and washing on deck. They even have television. As for the Niagara Falls: water, nothing but water! A dam is more interesting; at least one can occasionally see a big crack at its base, and hope for some excitement. When one travels, one sees nothing but hotels. Squalid rooms, with iron bedsteads, and a picture of some kind hanging on the wall from a rusty nail, a coloured print of London Bridge or the Eiffel Tower. One also sees trains, lots of trains, and airports that look like restaurants, and restaurants that look like morgues. All the ports in the world are hemmed in by oil slicks and shabby customs buildings. In the streets of the towns, people keep to the sidewalks, cars stop at red lights. If only one occasionally arrived in a country where women are the colour of steel and men wear owls on their heads. But no, they are sensible, they all have black ties, partings to one side, brassières and stiletto heels. In all the restaurants, when one has finished eating one calls over the individual who has been prowling among the tables, and pays him with a promissory note. There are cigarettes everywhere! There are airplanes and automobiles everywhere.”

CountryAdventureTravelTrainHotelAirplaneAutomobileRestaurantAirportMorgue
Book:The Book of Flights
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“The Basement Morgue by Stewart Stafford A reluctant errand to a basement morgue, No mortal knew what things lurked there, The elevator shuddered to a halt, opening, To a scattered boneyard of patient beds. Totem tchotchkes of a broken system, Dead corridors stretched left and right, A charged cold-sweat silence hung, As a flaccid desk stethoscope rattled. Buried my nose in my clipboard; Had to find their machine - now! A gurney wheeled itself past me, Disappearing into an anteroom. A hanging skeleton lunged at me— Spindly fingers choked me into blackness. Rousing to bright lights, blinding me; Icy steel drawers swallowed my screams. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HorrorGhostsHospitalDark PoetryGothic FictionMedical ThrillerFlash FictionPsychological HorrorMorgueCreepypasta
Author:Stewart Stafford
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