Quote by Virginia Woolf

“Flesh, bodies, nerves, legs… things were getting all mixed up in his mind. It seemed to be filled with flesh, cloyed with the sweetish…

— Humphrey Cobb

“Not a lot of flesh was left on my bones. This flesh sufficed only for malice, the last human feeling to go. Not indifference…

— Varlam Shalamov

“Whatever had killed him, it hadn't been human. His face was gone, simply torn away. Something had ripped his lips off. I could see…

— Jim Butcher

“He was up to his neck in it. He was breathing the air of its world, adapting to its gravity. The story's essence had…

— Haruki Murakami

“He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating - and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely…

— Patrick Süskind

“His body came home, but his soul had been devoured in the firefight of a godless desert.”

— Andrea Randall

“and when I took my fingers down, there was the stain of the tears, tinged with mortal blood. And already there was begun in…

— Anne Rice

“And the thought came to him, that he was like that metal, about to be plunged into a fire hotter and more savage than…

— Ruth Warburton

“...as if he had turned into one of those sarcophagi lined with bristling nails. He wanted to flee himself, unshackle himself from the excruciating…

— Félix J. Palma

“The mending of flesh always made her feel sick. Flesh was meant to be split apart, not fused back together.”

— Aubrie Nixon

“He looked honored, extraordinarily honored, seeming to care for that which tore his flesh than he did for the flesh itself, embracing the blade…

— Helen Oyeyemi

“The only real flesh was the flesh that existed in his imagination. Since, therefore, he regarded the flesh as an ideal abstraction, rather than…

— Yukio Mishima