Best 152 quotes in «last words quotes» category

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    BELONG You said I belong to you And I agree But the quality of that belonging Is a question of some importance. I do not belong to you Like a purchase Something ordered and sold And delivered in a box To be put up and shown off To friends and admirers. I would not belong to you that way And I know you would not have me so. I will tell you how I belong to you. I belong to you like a ring on a finger A symbol of something eternal. I belong to you like a heart in a chest Beating in time to another heart. I belong to you like a word on the air Sending love to your ear. I belong to you like a kiss on your lips Put there by me, in the hope of more to come. And most of all I belong to you Because in where I hold my hopes I hold the hope that you belong to me. It is a hope I unfold for you now like a gift. Belong to me like a ring And a heart And a word And a kiss And like a hope held close. I will belong to you like all these things And also something more Something we will discover between us And will belong to us alone. You said I belong to you And I agree. Tell me you belong to me, too. I wait for your word And hope for your kiss. Love you. Enzo.

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    Be of good comfort, Mr. Ridley, and play the man: We shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust never shall be put out.

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    Be natural my children. For the writer that is natural has fulfilled all the rules of art." (Last words, according to Dickens's obituary in The Times.)

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    But with her eyes closed, she began to whisper. “If you have someone to love, then love. If you have someone to forgive, then forgive. You think, when you’re seventeen, there’s time enough for that, but there’s not. There’s no time at all.” I squeezed her hand, trying to think of how to respond. But she took the burden from me and kept whispering. “You want to know why God gave us people to love? Because that’s the only way we can understand how he feels about us. Desperate and jealous.

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    Do not weep. Being is enough. There, that is all. I am done...

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    Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the debt?

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    Dear Bryony, There are many things I wish I had time to tell you, so I will say just this: These past few days have been some of the best days of my life. Because of you. My fervent hope is that you are safe and well as you read this letter. That you will have all the happiness I wish I could have shared with you. And that you will remember me not as a failed husband, but one who was still trying, til the very end. Yours always, Leo

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    Day, after day, after glorious day, I was falling in love with books.....

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    Don't be afraid!

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    Dželat mi prilazi i kaže: "Spustite glavu na panj i raširite ruke kad budete spremni, gospo." Poslušno spuštam ruke na panj i nespretno kleknem na travu. Osećam njen miris pod kolenima. Osećam bol u leđima i čujem krik galebova i nečiji plač. A onda odjednom, baš kad se spremim da spustim čelo na hrapavu površinu panja i raširim ruke da dam znak krvniku da može da udari, odjednom me preplavljuje talas radosti i žudnje za životom, i kažem: "Ne." Prekasno je, dželat je već zamahnuo sekirom iznad glave, vež je spušta, ali ja kažem: "Ne" i ustajem, pridržavajući se za panj da se osovim na noge. Osetim strahovit udarac na potiljku, ali gotovo nikakav bol. Silina udarca obara me na zemlju i ja ponavljam "Ne", i odjednom me obuzima buntovnički zanos. Ne pristajem na volju ludaka Henrija Tjudora, ne spuštam krotko glavu na panj i nikada to neću uraditi. Boriću se za svoj život i vičem "Ne!", pokušavajući da ustanem i "Ne", kad osetim novi udarac, "Ne" dok pužem po travi, a krv mi lipti iz rane na vratu i glavi i zaslepljuje me, ali ne guši moju radost u borbi za život iako mi on izmiče, i svedočenju, do poslednje g časa, o zlu koje Henri Tjudor nanosi meni i mojima. "Ne!", vičem. "Ne! Ne! Ne

  • By Anonym

    Don't cry for me, for I go where music was born.

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    Et puis, tenez, monsieur Marius,je crois que j'étais un peu amoureuse de vous.

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    Ese chico roto en la playa parecía como hace una vida. Los años habían pasado, colegio y la NFL, matrimonio y un bebé, pero de vez en cuando, cuando Jude miraba hacia mí y me daba esa lenta mirada, con esa sonrisa conocida en él, yo era esa chica en bikini negro de nuevo, anhelando por un chico que nunca pensé que podría ser mío.

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    Glory?! Have you gone MAD? There's no glory to be had now! Only retreat -- or surrender -- or death!" "That's an easy chose for us, arcadian! SPARTANS NEVER RETREAT! SPARTANS NEVER SURRENDER!

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    Everyone kept asking me to stay, so I did.

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    Good-bye...if we meet...

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    God will pardon me..that's His line of work. last words of Heinrich Heine

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    I killed the President because he was the enemy of the good people-the good working people. I am not sorry for my crime. I am sorry I could not see my father.

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    Good God! I'm out of tobacco.

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    He felt weighted down by guilt and regret for what might have been his last words to all of them.

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    I am not a coward, but I am so strong. So hard to die.

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    I am perplexed

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    I don’t know if these are last words or ones that I’ll remember.

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    I grabbed Liam's arm as he passed me on his way to the tunnel door, kissing his cheek. "See you later tonight." He stepped down into the tunnel, shouldering a backpack Cole had left for him there. When I turned to say good-bye to the other Stewart, he'd stooped, turned his cheek toward me, and was waiting. I flicked it with my finger, making him laugh again. "You're impossible," I informed him. "It's all part of my charm," he said, shifting the heavy bag on his shoulder. "Take care of things, Boss." "Take care of him." I said, pointedly. He gave one last mock salute before shutting the door to the tunnel. I waited until the sound of his and the others' steps faded completely before locking the door after him.

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    I know I am going where Lucy is.

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    How can you say it was all a lie?” I ask, just above a whisper. “Matt was my best friend. I loved him that way always. ‘We have to look out for her.’ That was the last thing he said to me alone. And then he died. What was I supposed to do, Frank? Tell me?

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    How many losses does it take to stop a heart, to lay waste to the vocabularies of desire?

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    I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude.

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    I could have been 23 next July I gambled on what mattered most, the dice were cast. I lost.

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    I don't know if you have children of your own, Mariamjo, but if you do I pray that God look after them and spare you the grief that I have known. I still dream of them. I still dream of my dead children. I have dreams of you too, Mariam jo. I miss you. I miss the sound of your voice, your laughter. I miss reading to you, and all those times we fished together. Do you remember all those times we fished together? You were a good daughter, Mariam jo, and I cannot ever think of you without feeling shame and regret. Regret… When it comes to you, Mariamjo, I have oceans of it. I regret that I did not see you the day you came to Herat. I regret that I did not open the door and take you in. I regret that I did not make you a daughter to me, that l let you live in that place for all those years. And for what? Fear of losing face? Of staining my so called good name? How little those things matter to me now after all the loss, all the terrible things I have seen in this cursed war. But now, of course, it is too late. Perhaps this is just punishment for those who have been heartless, to understand only when nothing can be undone. Now all I can do is say that you were a good daughter, Mariamjo, and that I never deserved you. Now all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. So forgive me, Mariamjo. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

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    I feel nothing except a certain difficulty in continuing to exist.

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    If God shall choose I shall love thee but better after death

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    Imagination is an old soul.

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    I thought at first she was just dead. Just darkness. Just a body being eaten by bugs. I thought about her a lot like that, as something's meal. What was her-green eyes, half a smirk, the soft curves of her legs-would soon be nothing, just the bones I never saw. I thought about the slow process of becoming bone and then fossil and then coal that will, in millions of years, be mined by humans of the future, and how they would their homes with her, and then she would be smoke billowing out of a smokestack, coating the atmosphere. I still think that, sometimes. I still think that, sometimes, think that maybe "the afterlife" is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. Maybe she was just a matter, and matter gets recycled.

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    I only wish I had drunk more champagne.

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    In fact, I didn’t really want to have final words at all, unless they involved something like, “At last, I have transcended beyond the boundaries of my frail human existence.

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    In this life, I had all I ever wanted. Losing Erik was a sadness that knit itself into my soul, but that sadness was balanced out by all that came after. The years with you, my little girl, and with your grandfather and all the people of Bella Vista. It has been a life of abundance, and I will always be grateful for that.

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    It was a wartime story, goodies versus baddies, lots of explosions and shooting. The Germans always shouted 'Aiiieeee!' as they died. Atkins wondered what he would choose, confronted with similar circumstances. 'Aiiieeee!' seemed to him to lack the necessary gravitas and originality, as well as sounding a bit, well, German. But then who knew what might come to mind, in those final moments?

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    It's very beautiful over there.

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    Je vois de la lumière neuve (I see a new light)

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    I want my life to be the greatest story. My very existence will be the greatest poem. Watch me burn. Love always, Charlotte

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    I want my famous last words to be more famous rather than last.

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    L'homme ne poursuit que des chimères. (Man follows only phantoms.) {His true last words, according to Augustus De Morgan.}

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    Let us cross over the river, and rest in the shade of the trees.

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    Let us cross the river to the other side and rest beneath the shade of the trees. [Stonwall Jackson just before passing into eternity in 1863.]

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    My last words? "Life is no way to treat an animal, not even a mouse.

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    Look...at...me...

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    Messy, isn't it?

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    Never wait until the end of your life to realize you have not live to fully love.

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    No matter what my fucking last words were, please say they were these: 'I have always known that the pursuit of excellence is a lethal habit.