Deadly Quote of the Week

I found a book, called The Oxford Book of Death, filled with wonderful quotes and excerpts from all kinds of books, poems and plays, that I would like to share with you.  So this will be the first post using these.  I hope you enjoy them!

This one is from the metaphysical novel, Kleinzeit (which means "little time"), by Russell Hoban:

"Under the bed, Death sat humming to itself while it cleaned its fingernails.  I never do get them really clean, it said.  It's a filthy job I've got but what's the use of complaining.  All the same I think I'd rather have been Youth or Spring or any number of things rather than what I am.  Not Youth, maybe.  That's a little wet and you'd hardly get to know people before they've moved on.  Spring's pretty much the same and it's a lady's job besides.  Action would be nice to be, I should think.

Elsewhere Action lay in his cell smoking and looking up at the ceiling.  What a career, he said.  I've spent more time in the nick [jail] than anywhere else.  Why couldn't I have been Death or something like that.  Steady work, security."

Very human, isn't it?  The grass is always greener somewhere else.  Especially in a cemetery...