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Urban Decay Quotes

Browse 13 quotes about Urban Decay.

Urban Decay Quotes

“Addiction isn't a moral failure; it’s a societal one. In the ER, I’ve sutured wounds from overdoses and watched schools fail to arm kids against the coming storm. ‘The Lotus Mark: The Pink Lotus’ isn’t fiction. It’s a glitter-coated bullet aimed at apathy. Here’s the truth: Lotus pills don’t just dissolve in your bloodstream. They dissolve families, cities, futures. I wrote this because nurses don’t just heal bodies; we armor souls. And sometimes, that armor is stormtrooper-plated and dripping in defiance. Deanna LaForce RN], ER nurse and author of ‘The Lotus Mark: The Pink Lotus’ (Star Wars cosplay tutorials sold separately).”

Crime FictionPsychological ThrillerMedical ThrillerApocalyptic FictionDystopian HorrorUrban DecaySocietal CollapseAddiction NarrativeBodily HorrorMulti Pov Thriller
Book:The Lotus Mark: The Pink Lotus. A Novella on Addiction and Trafficking Through the Eyes of an ER Nurse
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“The old frame house down near the waterfront had never held so many people since the day it was put up. It must have been a pleasant place fifty years before: trees overhanging the limpid water, cows grazing in the meadows on both sides of the river, little frame houses like this one dotting the banks here and there. It wasn't a pleasant place any more: garbage scows, coal yards, the river a greasy gray soup. Dead-end blocks of decrepit tenements on one side of it, lumberyards and ice-plants and tall stacks on the other. The house was set far back from the street, hemmed in by the blank walls that rose around it. ("I Wouldn't Be In Your Shoes")”

TenementsUrban DecayWaterfront
Author:Cornell Woolrich
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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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“To say it's the poor quality of the paint under socialism is correct, but it is not enough. To say it's soft-coal exploitation and air pollution, bad gasoline and bad cars, or lack of money - that again would be correct. But not the whole story. All these reasons (and probably many more) are not enough to explain the decrepitude. I think the reason is in us. The cities have been killed by our decades of indifference, by our conviction that somebody else - the government, the party, those 'above' - is in charge of it. Not us. How can it be us, if we are not in charge of our own lives?”

CitiesResponsibilityPaintSocialismCommunismDecayCity LifeUrban DecayCommonsEnvironmental Psychology
Book:How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed
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“Antiseptic Awakening by Stewart Stafford See the rainbow spattered With dark blood moon juice. This creeping haemorrhage, A lacerated spectrum merged. Bruised trickles not halting, Violations in crimson stealth. Impotent, alleged lifeforms, Ashen foot-dragging below. Casually surrendered hues, The arterial strain's zenith. No colour in cheek nor sky, Bleached by antiseptic snow. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

ExistentialismSurrealismColorsDark AcademiaContemporary PoetryContemporary LiteraturePhilosophical PoetryGothic PoetryUrban DecayStewart Stafford
Author:Stewart Stafford
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