Best 49 quotes in «after death quotes» category

Christ is risen! There is life, therefore, after death! His resurrection is the symbol and pledge of universal resurrection!

Death and what came after death was no great mystery to Sabriel. She just wished it was.

I don't actually believe in the extension of consciousness after death.

Death is the greatest illusion of all.

If life begins at conception, but you can be born again later, only to live on eternally after death, what's the big deal about anything?

If fame comes after death, I'm in no hurry for it. [Lat., Si post fata venit gloria non propero.]

If fame is to come only after death, I am in no hurry for it.

If you are anxious about death, then you don't have a sense of the oneness of things - you feel that after death, you will be no more.

It isn't easy to live after death. It takes a lifetime.

I hate to say this, but I'll repeat it: After death, all we know that you do is stink.

I thought of the priest who'd told me that many religions hold that it is easier to be closely connected to people we love after death than before.

One never knows the ending. One has to die to know exactly what happens after death, although Catholics have their hopes.

It's just as idiotic to say there is no life after death as it is to say there is one.

I want to go on living even after death!

Often the people most concerned about others going to hell when they die seem less concerned with the hells on earth right now, while the people most concerned with the hells on earth right now seem the least concerned about hell after death.

The eternity of the spirit does not begin after death ... but is, like God, always present.

Parents remain our touchstones, fellow travelers, even after death. They are both missing and present.

Perhaps there is no life after death....there's just Los Angeles.

Satguru knows that there is no death to the disciple. Atma never dies. Even after death he continues to get direction on the path

Survival in the conventional sense of the term means to continue to live, but also to live after death.

Total peace after death, becoming someone else, is the best hope I've got.

The monuments of the nations are all protests against nothingness after death; so are statues and inscriptions; so is history.

Religion is the tie that binds one to one's Creator, and whilst the body perishes, as it has to, religion persists even after death.

And a soul would run by a living being, touch them softly on the shoulder or cheek, and continue on its way to heaven. The dead are never exactly seen by the living, but many people seem acutely aware of something changed around them. They speak of a chill in the air. The mates of the deceased wake from dreams and see a figure standing at the end of their bed, or in a doorway, or boarding, phantomlike, a city bus.

We all think we know what happens after death. But maybe it's going to be not only weird but also dorky and comic and inconsistent.

After death, I will lose my opportunity to complain so I will accept everything with love.

Do I have anything to lose? This life will be gone one day to the Creator who gave it.

[Charlie is dying:] After what seemed a long while, but hadn’t been, Marsh gave Paulette’s hand a warm and caring squeeze. “They’re here for him,” she said. But their heavenly visitors didn’t take him right away. They had to make room for the chaos of modern medical urgencies. To get out of the way of well-trained professionals who had dedicated their lives to holding back Heaven. Choppers are just as noisy and turbulent as we imagine them to be. One tore in over the hills and shattered every bit of peace Charlie otherwise could have lost himself into. In an instant the Med-Evac team was all over him. In the midst of that blatant orchestrated chaos Paulette fought to find her peace, and to hold him inside it. “Hang on, buddy,” techs kept telling him. “Don’t go leaving us now. You just hang in there.” But they didn’t understand, Paulette thought. It was his time. The chopper made a horrible racket carrying him off. Marsh, Paulette, and Ailana held their peace as its winds whipped their world into a froth. Harve’s face twisted with something that might conceivably have been rage. Then, all of a sudden, the birds sang, as though someone had given them a cue. “So that’s what it’s like,” Marsha said, very softly. “The afterlife. “My God, it’s so beautiful.

Decades after little Colleen’s death, my sister Kathy still loves her daughter dearly. Colleen was born with cerebral palsy. She died in Kath’s arms in a rocking chair at the age of six. They were listening to a music box that looked very much like a smiling pink bunny. The opening quote in this book, “I will love you forever, but I’ll only miss you for the rest of my life,” is from Kath’s nightly prayers to her child. Colleen couldn’t really talk or walk very well, but loved untying my mother’s tennis shoes and then laughing. When Mom died decades later we sent her off in tennis shoes so Colleen would have something to untie in Heaven. In the meantime, Dad had probably been taking really good care of her up there. He must have been aching to hug her for all of her six years on earth. Mom’s spirit comes back to play with great grandchildren she’d never met or had a chance to love while she was still – I almost said “among the living.” In my family, though, the dead don’t always stay that way. You can be among the living without technically being alive. Mom comes back to play, but Dad shows up only in emergencies. They are both watching over their loved ones. “The Mourning After” is dedicated to all those we have had the joy of loving before they’ve slipped away to the other side. It then celebrates the joy of re-unions.

At the end of life, nobody knows where the spirit goes.

Have you ever loved someone so intensely, so entirely ,that it's painful to be apart from them? I'm not talking about being in a long-distance relationship or even a particularly painful case of unrequited love. I'm talking about being in a completely different world from the other person, a world where you can see them and hear them but you can't touch them and they can't see or hear you.

Don't divide me into before and after.

…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.

I am constantly mystified by what John ends up remembering… I just don’t understand why he’s able to hang on to information like that, while so many other more important memories evaporate. Then again, I suppose so much of what stays with us is often insignificant. The memories we take to the ends of our lives have no real rhyme or reason, especially when you think of the endless things that you do over the course of a day, a week, a month, a year, a lifetime. All the cups of coffee, hand-washings, changes of clothes, lunches, goings to the bathroom, headaches, naps, walks to school, trips to the grocery store, conversations about the weather—all the things so unimportant they should be immediately forgotten. Yet they aren’t. I often think of the Chinese red bathrobe I had when I was twenty-seven years old; the sound of our first cat Charlie’s feet on the linoleum of our old house; the hot rarefied air around aluminum pot the moment before the kernels of popcorn burst open. I think of these things as often as I think about getting married or giving birth or the end of the Second World War. What is truly amazing is that before you know it, sixty years go by and you can remember maybe eight or nine important events, along with a thousand meaningless ones. How can that be? You want to think there’s a pattern to it all because it makes you feel better, gives you some sense of a reason why we’re here, but there really isn’t any. People look for God in these patterns, these reasons, but only because they don’t know where else to look. Things happen to us: some of it important, most of it not, and a little of it stays with us till the end. What stays after that? I’ll be damned if I know. (pp.174-175)

I didn't know who to believe but one thing I do know: when a man is living many claim relationships that are hardly so and after he dies, well, then it's everybody's party.

If there is but one pearl of wisdom I have to impart to you, after all my observations here thus far, it is do not take yourself too seriously. Because when you get here, you might just find that you are not exactly who or what you thought you were.

I'll love you forever, even when I can't.

Marina wouldn't want to be remembered because she dead. She would want to be remembered because she's good.

Not far from me, a little girl is sitting on the aisle seat. A peach glows in her hand. Moments ago she asked her mother, What do we miss the most when we die? And I almost responded. But her mother put a thick finger on her lips: Shh, children should not talk about death, and she looked at me for a brief second, apologetically. Food, I almost said to the girl. We miss peaches, strawberries, delicacies like Sandhurst curry, kebab pasanda and rogan josh. The dead do not eat marzipan. The smell of bakeries torments them day and night.

No matter how rich or poor you are, all life will come to an halt with two types of destinations; Heaven and Hell.

The dead do not need aspirin or sorrow, I suppose. but they might need rain. not shoes but a place to walk. not cigarettes, they tell us, but a place to burn. or we're told: space and a place to fly might be the same. the dead don't need me. nor do the living. but the dead might need each other. in fact, the dead might need everything we need and we need so much if we only knew what it was. it is probably everything and we will all probably die trying to get it or die because we don't get it. I hope you will understand when I am dead I got as much as possible.

The afterlife? Why do you think that you deserve another life? Have you done a great job with this one?" - On the Afterlife

The thing you let Die within when you are Alive, will be carried with your Soul after Death.

The only way to survive after death is by breathing life into the universe before death.

We must make time to reflect on life.Someday this life will be gone.

A mans fame and hayre grow most after death, and are both equally uselesse.

When I came out into the outside room again, I saw her shoe still lying there, where it had come off in the course of our brief wrestle. It looked so pathetic there by itself without an owner, it looked so lonely, it looked so empty. Something made me pick it up arid take it in to her. Like when someone's going away, you help them on with their coat, or their jackboots, or whatever it is they need for going away. I didn't try to put it back on her, I just set it down there beside her close at hand. You're going to need this, I said to her in my mind. You're starting on a long walk. You're going to keep walking from now on, looking for your home. I stopped and wondered for a minute if that was what happened to all of us when we crossed over. Just keep walking, keep on walking, with no ahead and no in-back-of; tramps, vagrants in eternity. With our last hope and horizon - death - already taken away. In the Middle Ages they had lurid colors, a bright red hell, an azure heaven shot with gold stars. They knew where they were, at least. They could tell the difference. We, in the Twentieth, we just have the long walk, the long walk through the wispy backward-stringing mists of eternity, from nowhere to nowhere, never getting there, until you're so tired you almost wish you were alive again. ("Life Is Weird Sometimes" - first chapter of unpublished novel THE LOSER)

After night comes day. After death comes life. Even at your darkest time look around because you are never really alone. You are loved.

Best while you have it use your breath, There is no drinking after death.