Best 9 801 of Death quotes - MyQuotes
It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.
This is me being sad. Maybe you think I'm being happy in this picture. Really I'm being sad but pretending I'm being happy. I'm doing that because I think people won't like me if I look sad.
An insult bestowed on your interior and exterior personality; for causes beyond control, kills you innumerably, till the last breath.
Most people master the art of wasting a life.
Dead. Never been that before. Not even once.
Death and disaster seemed to cling to certain men like wet leaves to a shoe and there was nothing they could do about it. What did that song say? Some guys had all the luck. Some guys got all the breaks. And some guys were born to scrape flesh off the pavement.
Mis más trágicos recuerdos se levantaron en furioso oleaje. Creía que después de pasar por la experiencia de perderte ya nada podía afectarme demasiado, pero la mínima posibilidad de que algo semejante le ocurriera al hijo que me quedaba, me volteó. Tenía un peso en el pecho, como una roca aplastándome, que me cortaba la respiración. Me sentía vulnerable, en carne viva, a punto de llorar en cualquier instante. En la noche, cuando todos descansaban, oía un rumor entre las paredes, había quejidos atascados en los umbrales, suspiros en los cuartos desocupados. Era mi propio miedo, supongo. El dolor acumulado en ese largo año de tu agonía estaba agazapado en la casa.
Nuclear, ecological, chemical, economic — our arsenal of Death by Stupidity is impressive for a species as smart as Homo sapiens ["Strange New World," http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/20/boo...].
Emile M. Cioran
Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!
There's this thing called being so open-minded your brains drop out.
More than death, one fears the utter isolation that accompanies it. We try to go through life two by two, but each one of us must die alone- no one can die our death with us or for us. The shunning of the dying by the living prefigures final absolute abandonment
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Music, When Soft Voices Die Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Breathing seemed harder in the cemetery, and selfish, somehow...
Here at last We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.
Each of us repeats Adam’s journey and acknowledges, with the loss of innocence, that he is mortal. Weep and pray, O Arseny. And do not fear death, for death is not just the bitterness of parting. It is also the joy of liberation.” (Laurus, p. 30)
Death is a monster that chases the rapt spectator from the theater before the play he is watching with infinite interest has ended.
But he said to his wife, sitting next to him on the couch in the TV room, that rarely had he seen a funeral at which it seemed like almost nobody in attendance had any idea why they were there. His wife, who had heard things like this from him before, reminded him of a ceremony he had presided over only a few months ago about which he had had the same reaction. 'Oh right,' the minister said. 'Yes. That one was much worse.' He leaned down to the coffee table and picked up the remote.
If we begin to die when we live, and long life be but a prolongation of death, our life is a sad composition; we live with death, and die not in a moment.
I do not believe in personal immortality; it seems so unnecessary. Show me one man who deserves to live forever.
I remember how people would often come to see my master Jamyang Khyentse simply to ask for his guidance for the moment of death. He was so loved and revered throughout Tibet, especially in the eastern province of Kham, that some would travel for months on end to meet him and get his blessing just once before they died. All my masters would give this as their advice, for this is the essence of what is needed as you come to die: "Be free of attachment and aversion. Keep your mind pure. And unite your mind with Buddha.
I do not fear of death because my world had lost it's colour and I had lost my happiness. But life goes on. So, I decided to cover the pain I suffer with a shiny,bright smile.I might look happy but you do not know what's going on inside. It's scary what a smile can hide, right ?
Erich Maria Remarque
…it would be like gazing at the photograph of a dead comrade; those are his features, it is his face, and the days we spent together take on a mournful life in the memory; but the man himself it is not.
Some people think very cleverly, ‘Let me live my whole life the way I want to live. In the last few moments, I will remember god and chant His name and enter heaven somehow.’ Please be very clear, only that which you thought of in your whole life, will come up when you leave the body. Don’t think that at that last moment you can play the game! No! - HDH Bhagavan Sri Nithyananda Paramashivoham, in the book "Living Enlightenment
And in the same way, again, are not the thoughts of men and women in the agony of death often turned towards the practical, painful, obscure, internal, intestinal aspect, towards that 'seamy side' of death which is, as it happens, the side that death actually presents to them and forces them to feel, a side which far more closely resembles a crushing burden, a difficulty in breathing, a destroying thirst, than the abstract idea to which we are accustomed to give the name of Death?
The uncertainty of death is, in effect, the great support of the whole system of life.
And what of the dead? I own that I thought of myself, at times, almost as dead. Are they not locked below ground in chambers smaller than mine was, in their millions of millions? There is no category of human activity in which the dead do not outnumber the living many times over. Most beautiful children are dead. Most soldiers, most cowards. The fairest women and the most learned men – all are dead. Their bodies repose in caskets, in sarcophagi, beneath arches of rude stone, everywhere under the earth. Their spirits haunt our minds, ears pressed to the bones of our foreheads. Who can say how intently they listen as we speak, or for what word?
Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
A few can touch the magic string, and noisy fame is proud to win them: Alas for those that never sing, but die with all their music in them!
I went into the living room and looked down at my mother’s torn body and shook my head. It was surreal. I guess some people in that situation would have crumbled, some would have cried, but I’d emotionally disconnected from life a long time ago. For that, I had to thank the skeletal bitch on the floor, with her greedy rodent soul and her short-tempered ape-mate in the kitchen. If anything, her death was a belated answer to old prayers, with a bit of an unexpected mess.
You attain a ‘temporary life’ through ‘egoism’ and an ‘eternal life’ without ‘egoism’. ‘Egoism’ is like the string that is wound around a top; it what ‘discharges’.
Shaun David Hutchinson
It was chance. A random series of events given meaning by somone desperate to prove there's a design to our lives. That the minutes and hours between our birth and death are ore than frantic moments of chaos. Because if that's all they are - if there are no rules governing our lives - then our entire existence is a meaningless farce.
Lois Mcmaster Bujold
…the trouble with oaths of the form, death before dishonor, is that eventually, given enough time and abrasion, they separate the world into two sorts of people: the dead, and the forsworn.
But solace also asks us very direct and forceful questions. Firstly, how will you bear the inevitable loss that is coming to you? And how will you endure it through the years? And above all, how will you shape a life equal to and as beautiful and as astonishing as a world that can birth you, bring you into the light and then just as you were beginning to understand it, take you away?
Nature is cruel. Isn't that right, Daddy? Every living thing has to die. And they're still beautiful. Now they'll stay that way.
> Why does everything that lives have to die? < So life would be precious, Asher. Something that is yours forever, is never precious.
Katherine Anne Porter
Yes, she had changed her mind after sixty years and she would like to see George. I want you to find George. Find him and be sure to tell him I forgot him. I want him to know I had my husband just the same and my children and my house like any other woman. A good house too and a good husband that I loved and fine children out of him. Better than I had hoped for even. Tell him I was given back everything he took away and more. Oh, no, oh, God, no, there was something else besides the house and the man and the children. Oh, surely they were not all? What was it? Something not given back... Her breath crowded down under her ribs and grew into a monstrous frightening shape with cutting edges; it bored up into her head, and the agony was unbelievable: Yes, John, get the Doctor now, no more talk, the time has come.
We are biology. We are reminded of this at the beginning and the end, at birth and at death. In between we do what we can to forget.
Is it permissible even for a dying hero to think before he dies ow men will think of him hereafter. His fame lasts perhaps two thousand years. And what are two thousand years?
After breakfast I spent an hour cleaning my revolver and trying my skill at a target. Jane shook her head, probably thinking that bullets were vain against demonic powers. But Perdita was hugely delighted with the shining little instrument and wanted it for a plaything; women of all ages will play with death! ("Absolute Evil")
Yes, babies in the womb are human beings, but so what?
She tried to think about what lay ahead, but soon gave up. 'Words turn into stone,' Nimit had told her. She settled deep into her seat and closed her eyes. All at once the image came to her of the sky she had seen while swimming on her back. And Erroll Garner's 'I'll Remember April.' Let me sleep, she thought. Just let me sleep. And wait for the dream to come.
I once asked God in a dream if I could see the world, he answered me, "When you die I will show you more than that boring world has to offer. I promise." Am I silly to think he will make good on his promise to me? I think we will be traveling to different galaxies, into the universe next door, out in space where a black hole will no longer be a mystery but a radiant sight to see. I do, I think he will find me upon my death and fly with me into the depths of his creation.
When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...
The rich people of this world fear only one thing: death
But we are all finally tricked and slapped to death.
God wants to use you right where you are with what you have not what you do not have.
Carol P. Christ
To put it simply, for Plato change equals death and decay. Since the body is the location of death and decay, the human body and all bodies were found lacking. Plato found change so problematic that he imagined divine power existing totally apart from the changing world, as we have seen. God not only did not have a body; he was also separate from all bodies. This is the first theological mistake.
I may be dying, but I am surrounded by loving, caring souls. How many people can say that?
I wished that my own bones were unbound, I wished they were mingling, picked clean by fish, with the bones of another body, a body my bones and heart and soul had loved with unfathomable certainty for decades, and both of us down deep now, lost to everything but the fact of bare bones on a dark seabed.
Mehmet Murat Ildan
Life is meaningful; death is meaningless and religion’s greatest betrayal to the humanity is that it gave a meaning to death, it wrongly made the death as meaningful! Declaring an ultimate ‘end’ as a hopeful ‘exit’ to somewhere is the biggest crime of the religion!
All of us, whoever we may be, have our respirable beings. We lack air and we stifle. Then we die. To die for lack of love is horrible. Suffocation of the soul.