“What can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the Reaper Man?”

“ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOMEDAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS.Death took a step backwards.It was impossible to read expression in Azrael's features.Death glanced sideways at the servants. LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?”

“The reaper does not listen to the harvest.”

“Poverty is a reaper: it harvests everything inside us that might have made us capable of social intercourse with others, and leaves us empty, purged of feeling, so that we may endure all the darkness of the present day.”

“Seasons don't fear the Reaper, nor do the Sun, the Wind or the Rain.We can be like they are.Come on, baby, don't fear the Reaper.”

“He's lying, Kay," Nash said, fists clenched at his sides. "Hellions can't lie, but we all know reapers can.""Careful, pot," Tod said. "Someone might notice your resemblance to the kettle.”