Best 9 801 of Death quotes - MyQuotes
But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.
In the process of helping others, I helped myself. In acting out of my own brokeness I became whole again. It's the kind of strength and determination you find when you have hit rock bottom and you realize you could die right now - and want to, but realize that even death won't make the difference you were hoping for.
THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER The man in the corner Is dying with words He's crying to be heard His days are marked And his only ears are birds He knows the secret to peace And his experience bleeds and hurts Somebody stop and listen Before he departs the earth! Somebody write his thoughts Before he hits the turf! His eyes are closing their shutters And he just dropped his Beads and stick. His breath is leaving us. Please! Somebody hear him out quick! A little girl rushes to him and Picks up his cane of wood. The old man then turns to her And faintly whispers, "The key to peace is To always stay fair And be good.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
At eighty-one years of age he had enough lucidity to realize that he was attached to this world by a few slender threads that could break painlessly with a simple change of position while he slept, and if he did all he could to keep those threads intact, it was because of his terror of not finding God in the darkness of death
Die in a good way, obviously.
Death, which is so real, is at the same time so unreal.
You get angry - death does that.
Nirvana is not the blowing out of the candle. It is the extinguishing of the flame because day is come.
Pity Catherine Martin won't ever see the sun again. The sun's a mattress fire her God died in, Clarice.
Louisa May Alcott
I think immortality is the passing of a soul through many lives or experiences, and such as are truly lived, used and learned, help on to the next, each growing richer, happier and higher, carrying with it only the real memories of what has gone before.
Only death reveals what a nothing the body of man is.
Her words didn’t have the acrid smell of death.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean--" "To speak of it?" asked the K'mir. Diane nodded. "You have to, just to bleed off the poison from the memory.
I did not know what breath meant until she died. It was everything that gave me quickness and life: it was thought, feeling, animation. Without it there was nothing.
Alice Foote Macdougall
Life means opportunity, and the thing men call death is the last wonderful, beautiful adventure.
There will be no lasting peace either in the heart of individuals or in social customs until death is outlawed.
It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world.
It felt oily inside her head. There were strings of Xavier Stancliff caught inside of her, holding on and spiderwebbing out as he plotted and waited and thought: this is all the bitch deserves. Swallowing, Sandra pushed herself off the bed. It was late and the room was dark. She could see the bundled lump of Jack beneath his own covers. He’d left the television on and the light flickered down the tiny hall. Shadows danced and Sandra shivered as she left the room. In another life, she would have told Danny and Jack about the man. Danny would have whispered, “It’s alright,” and smoothed back her hair from her face and kissed her, lips dry and coarse on her forehead. Then he and Jack would’ve left while she was sleeping. They would’ve trampled the flowers and climbed into Xavier Stanliff’s window and when Sandra woke up there would have been one less man in the world.
And I don't believe you dead. How can you be dead if I still feel you? Maybe, like God, you changed into something different that I'll have to speak to in a different way, but you not dead to me Nettie. And never will you be.
Start wherever you are! Low hanging fruit really tastes as good as the high stuff.
I never understood why when you died, you didn't just vanish, everything should just keep going on the way it was only you just wouldn't be there. I always thought I'd like my own tombstone to be blank. No epitaph, and no name. Well, actually, I'd like it to say 'figment'.
What is life to Spirit, is death to the ego.
F. K. Preston
My creativity keeps me from starving. Humanity keeps my life mundane. Loving secures my love for life, but my imagination keeps me sane.
Unfortunately, the most significant moments of our lives are often unpleasant.
If you wish to view this as a cautionary tale, be my guest.
The news of any politician's death should be listed under Public Improvements.
Death is the great equalizer
I think that life would suddenly seem wonderful to us if we were threatened to die as you say. Just think of how many projects, travels, love affairs, studies, it–our life–hides from us, made invisible by our laziness which, certain of a future, delays them incessantly. ‘But let all this threaten to become impossible for ever, how beautiful it would become again! Ah! If only the cataclysm doesn’t happen this time, we won’t miss visiting the new galleries of the Louvre, throwing ourselves at the feet of Miss X, making a trip to India. ‘The cataclysm doesn’t happen, we don’t do any of it, because we find ourselves back in the heart of normal life, where negligence deadens desire. And yet we shouldn’t have needed the cataclysm to love life today. It would have been enough to think that we are humans, and that death may come this evening.
Defoe says that there were a hundred thousand country fellows in his time ready to fight to the death against popery, without knowing whether popery was a man or a horse.
Death, distance, and time, shall each one of them dig graves for your affections; but this you do not know, nor can know, until the story of your life is ended.
Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die.
Nobody really wants to be your friend when they discover that you work with dead people.
Los días pasan, la noche permanece. Te echo de menos.
sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.
A man who thinks that death is against life can never be non-violent. It is impossible. A man who thinks that death is the enemy can never be at ease, at home. That is impossible. How can you be at ease when the enemy is waiting for you any moment? It will jump on you and destroy you. How can you be non-tense when death is waiting just around the corner and the shadow of death is always falling on you? It can happen any moment. How can you rest when death is there? How can you relax? The enemy won't allow you to relax.
The child's heart beat: but she was growing in the wrong place inside her extraordinary mother, south of safe...she and her mother were rushed to the hospital, where her mother was operated on by a brisk cheerful diminutive surgeon who told me after the surgery that my wife had been perhaps an hour from death from the pressure of the child growing outside the womb, the mother from the child growing, and the child from growing awry; and so my wife did not die, but our mysterious child did...Not uncommon, an ectopic pregnancy, said the surgeon...Sometimes, continued the surgeon, sometimes people who lose children before they are born continue to imagine the child who has died, and talk about her or him, it's such an utterly human thing to do, it helps deal with the pain, it's healthy within reason, and yes, people say to their other children that they actually do, in a sense, have a sister or brother, or did have a sister or brother, and she or he is elsewhere, has gone ahead, whatever the language of your belief or faith tradition. You could do that. People do that, yes. I have patients who do that, yes... One summer morning, as I wandered by a river, I remembered an Irish word I learned long ago, and now whenever I think of the daughter I have to wait to meet, I find that word in my mouth: dunnog, little dark one, the shyest and quietest and tiniest of sparrows, the one you never see but sometimes you sense, a flash in the corner of your eye, a sweet sharp note already fading by the time it catches your ear.
Both marriage and death ought to be welcome: the one promises happiness, doubtless the other assures it.
Not from Hades' black and universal lake can you lift him. Not by groaning, not by prayers. Yet you run yourself out in a grief with no cure, no time-limit, no measure. It is a knot no one can untie. Why are you so in love with things unbearable?
The only thing constantly changing is change The living only become dead Your hair falling out Your liver swelled up Your teeth rot your gums and your chin Your ass starts to sag Your balls shrivel up Your cock swallowed up in its sack The only thing constantly changing is change And it's always change on your back.
Death and madness are his only mistresses.
It's like those eerie stories nurses tell, Of how some actor on a stage played Death, With pasteboard crown, sham orb and tinselled dart, And called himself the monarch of the world; Then, going in the tire-room afterward, Because the play was done, to shift himself, Got touched upon the sleeve familiarly, The moment he had shut the closet door, By Death himself. Thus God might touch a Pope At unawares, ask what his baubles mean, And whose part he presumed to play just now. Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true!
If you can feed in the presence of your enemies, if you can be blessed under the weight of burdens, when you praise God in pain, it is preparation for provision.
Meditation is a dress rehearsal for death.
And die of nothing but a rage to live.
We are pagans. We deify each other.
I’d be a fool to turn you away.” His smile was slow, and entirely too sexy. “And you certainly aren’t a fool.
Please remind them that none of us have all the time we think we have in this troubled but still beautiful world.
Love as acme of living and dying.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The grave itself is but a covered bridge, Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
Death was a smokescreen between Life and myself.