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Post Apocalypse Quotes

Browse 13 quotes about Post Apocalypse.

Post Apocalypse Quotes

“The world is a goddamned evil place, the strong prey on the weak, the rich on the poor; I’ve given up hope that there is a God that will save us all. How am I supposed to believe that there’s a heaven and a hell when all I see now is hell.”

WorldBelieveGodEarthEvilHopeBeliefStrongHeavenPoorHellRichWeekWeakDamnWealthyPrayBeliefsApocalypsePreyGiven UpNew World OrderApocalypticSaveGive UpBelievingArmageddonNwoPost ApocalypticDoomsdayPost ApocalypseSave UsGod DamnEvil PlaceDoomsday DiariesDoomsday DiaryGoddamnGoddamned
Book:Doomsday Diaries III: Luke the Protector
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“In truth, Qasim was angry at his own people for surrendering so readily to their fate, and he hated them more than he hated the Sayyadin, even with all their tyranny. The people thought of nothing except satisfying their lusts, and they busied themselves with the search for food and drink, never once thinking about their lot in life and changing this terrible world they endured. That’s what made him so angry. Sometimes, he’d ask himself: What drove them to stay alive, breeding and swarming like swamp flies? What strange force made them continue this accursed existence? He never found an answer, but he went on asking as he fumed on the inside, every once in a while letting out angry gusts from his chest.”

NovelDystopiaPost ApocalypseMalaz
Book:ملاذ: مدينة البعث
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“The fables spoke of a great war between the world’s children: conflicts over energy resources that led people to use their most advanced—and most deadly—weapons, until country after country collapsed and millions upon millions perished, leaving only a few struggling to survive in this harsh new environment. Malaz was the first city established in Egypt after civilization collapsed in the wake of the Great War. Its residents named it Malaz, or “Haven,” believing it to be the last refuge of humanity. Meanwhile, the ever-hopeful called it Madinat Al-Baath, or “City of Resurrection.”

NovelDystopiaPost ApocalypseMalaz
Book:ملاذ: مدينة البعث
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“The clerics of Abydos say those machines were responsible for the apocalypse that befell mankind,” Sia said. “It was those machines that drove man against man. And so any trace of one of these accursed machines is strictly forbidden. That’s why all of these relics, every last one, were gathered up in a huge temple called the Graveyard of the Past. They’re guarded by the clerics and servants of the temple so that no man can ever get too close. They say that whoever does will be punished by the gods.”

NovelDystopiaPost ApocalypseMalaz
Book:ملاذ: مدينة البعث
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“The world was already a miserable place in the spring of that cursed year. The New Depression was at its height. Stocks fell, jobs were lost, and consumer consumption fell in a corporate death spiral as the aging technoczars were revealed to have feet of clay. Financial institutions underreacted, the government overreacted, and a society living on borrowed time paid for with borrowed dollars failed. Hard times and hunger came to the Western world, which was all the more of a shock because the generation that survived the last financial collapse had virtually died out.”

ApocalypticPost ApocalypseProphecy In Fiction
Book:Way of the Wolf
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“He continued to move forward, skirting a pocket of radiation that had not died in the four years since last he had come this way. They came upon a place where the sands were fused into a glassy sea, and he slowed as he began its passage, peering ahead after the craters and chasms it contained. Three more rockfalls assailed him before the heavens split themselves open and revealed a bright-blue light, edged with violet. The dark curtains rolled back toward the Poles, and the roaring and the gunfire reports diminished. A lavender glow remained in the north, and a green sun dipped toward the horizon at his back. They had ridden it out, and he killed the infras, pushed back his goggles, and switched on the normal night lamps. The desert would be bad enough, all by itself. Something big and batlike swooped through the tunnel of his lights and was gone. He ignored its passage. Five minutes later it made a second pass, this time much closer, and he fired a magnesium flare. A black shape, perhaps forty feet across, was illuminated, and he gave it two five-second bursts from the fifty-calibers, and it fell to the ground and did not return again. To the squares, this was Damnation Alley. To Hell Tanner, this was still the parking lot.”

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Author:Roger Zelazny
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“The little car was soon free of the city, for the smear of suburbia that had once lain along the western highways for miles was gone. During the Plague Years of the eighties, when in some areas not one person in twenty remained alive, the suburbs were not a good place to be. Miles from the supermart, no gas for the car, and all the split-level ranch homes around you full of the dead. No help, no food. Packs of huge status-symbol dogs—Afghans, Alsatians, Great Danes—running wild across the lawns ragged with burdock and plantain. Picture window cracked. Who’ll come and mend the broken glass? People had huddled back into the old core of the city; and once the suburbs had been looted, they burned. Like Moscow in 1812, acts of God or vandalism: they were no longer wanted, and they burned. Fireweed, from which bees make the finest honey of all, grew acre after acre over the sites of Kensington Homes West, Sylvan Oak Manor Estates, and Valley Vista Park.”

Speculative FictionOregonPost ApocalypticPortlandPost ApocalypseUrban DecayThe Lathe Of Heaven
Book:The Lathe Of Heaven
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