Best 476 quotes in «immortality quotes» category

No man can be immortal by dying! There is only one way to be immortal: Not to die!

No one is adequate to comprehending the misery of my lot! Fate obliges me to be constantly in movement: I am not permitted to pass more than a fortnight in the same place. I have no Friend in the world, and from the restlessness of my destiny I never can acquire one. Fain would I lay down my miserable life, for I envy those who enjoy the quiet of the Grave: But Death eludes me, and flies from my embrace. In vain do I throw myself in the way of danger. I plunge into the Ocean; The Waves throw me back with abhorrence upon the shore: I rush into fire; The flames recoil at my approach: I oppose myself to the fury of Banditti; Their swords become blunted, and break against my breast: The hungry Tiger shudders at my approach, and the Alligator flies from a Monster more horrible than itself. God has set his seal upon me, and all his Creatures respect this fatal mark!

Nothing is forever. Except atoms.

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Novelty gives immortality and nobility provides a halo of glory to that immortality.

Of all the elements in the periodic table, not a single one is indestructible.

o gün akşamüstü son bir defa daha kırlarda dolaşmaya çıktığında yaşadığı tuhaf bir anı hatırladı: bir dere kıyısına gelmiş, çimenlere uzanmıştı. uzun süre orada öylece uzanmış, akarsuyun ta içinden geçerek bütün acıları ve bütün pislikleri; ben'ini sürükleyip götürdüğünü sanmıştı. tuhaf, unutulmaz bir an: ben'ini unutmuş, ben'ini kaybetmiş, kurtulmuştu; ve bu mutluluktu. bu anı içinde silik, uçucu ama çok önemli (belki de hepsinin en önemlisi olan) bir düşünceyi uyandırdı. hayatta dayanılmaz olan şey var olmak değil, kendin olmak. yaşamakta mutluluk diye birşey yok. yaşamak: acılı ben'ini dünya adına taşımak. ama olmak, olmak mutluluk. olmak, çeşmeye, evrenin içine ılık bir yağmur gibi indiği taş bir havuza dönüşmek.

Oh love let me embrace your path, to be remembered in kindness so I may remain immortal

O I will accompany the wind Until the chain Of my white bones Drifts like fine sand And I become compassing. I become the wind. - Song of the Wind

Om is the presence which steals away. It steals away the ordinary mundane existence of strife, struggle and duality; it steals away anxiety, aggression, fear, grief and sorrow; it steals away the debris of anger, hatred, confusion and ignorance, to fill us with the nectar of joy, immortality and life eternal.

Normally, the mortal would be emptied of his soul. His truest essence, which, if the bastard was lucky, would be released to be recycled by the cosmos. The ‘investor’ would then take hold, snuggling in tightly to his host body. At first it's kind of like when you purchase a new pair of shoes. How the hard leather around the opening digs into the flesh it surrounds. Then, after a short period of breaking them in, it begins to only feel uncomfortable when you move a certain way. Soon enough though, you forget that you even have them on. They eventually seem to fit as if you’ve always worn them. The truly unlucky, though, they are left inside. Paralyzed and powerless to do anything but watch their lives be lived by someone… something, else.

Now, when I look into his eyes, I don't see death - but eternity. For the first time in my life, I am looking into someone's gaze and realizing that not only do I understand what's in his eyes...he understands what's in mine.

One spiritual writer has observed that human beings are born with two diseases: life, from which we die; and hope, which says the first disease is not terminal. Hope is built into the structure of our personalities, into the depths of our unconscious; it plagues us to the very moment of our death. The critical question is whether hope is self-deception, the ultimate cruelty of a cruel and tricky universe, or whether it is just possibly the imprint of reality.

O, never from the memory of my heart Your dear, paternal image shall depart, Who while on earth, ere yet by death surprised, Taught me how mortals are immortalized; How grateful am I for that patient care All my life long my language shall declare.

Only in art can empires cheat oblivion,..

Options abound world over, Options to choose from and be the best.

Other than the promise of life after death, nothing consoles the poor better than the fact that rich people are also subject to death.

Our mortality makes it impossible for our problems to last forever.

Our task is to make nature, the blind force of nature, into an instrument of universal resuscitation and to become a union of immortal beings.

Our talents are living things, we give birth to them, nourish them till they grow and become immortal.

Over the lives borne from under the shadow of death there seems to fall the shadow of madness.

Part of the apparently conventional nature of our relationships is the threat of separation and death. This body dies. That body dies. We can rejuvenate, feel better, live longer, but, even so, in this world everybody dies. That is why we do spiritual practice, because we are conscious of the destiny of our separation. We are willing to fulfill the law of love, but on the other hand what we love dies. That is why this is one of the realms of suffering. This world is not a heaven. This is not a place of fulfillment. Thus, we must yield to the true Condition. We must not become dependent upon the conventional aspect of our relations. We must recognize our relations. We must identify with the Condition of the loved one. You must become established in the real Condition, or you will never be satisfied. You will be driven to all kinds of preoccupations and great schemes, trying to become victorious or immortal, for immortality's own sake, simply because you cannot deal with the fact of death. But death is an absolute message in this realm. It obligates us to recognize or identify one another in Truth, and we are not relieved of that obligation in this place.

People change spouses more often than they clean out closets. And every time they say, 'This is the one. This is the person I'm going to spend eternity with.' Then forty or fifty years go by and you're just sick of each other, utterly sick, and it's on to the next 'true love.' My question is what good is eternity if you are eternally falling in and out of love?

People speak even after their death. Only do speak those who have recorded their speech in writing before they die, the rest go silent forever

Perhaps her only legacy would be that she had known something immortal, and while eternity may still belong to God alone, not all things were enslaved by time.

Perhaps one day someone from a distant land will listen to this story of mine. Isn't this what lies behind the desire to be inscribed in the pages of a book? Isn't it just for the sake of this delight that sultans and viziers proffer bags of gold to have their histories written?

Perhaps the palms had been whispering warnings in the sultry breeze.

Peter sank. "I'd give anything to see time.

Schopenhauer wrote that to desire immortality is to desire the eternal perpetuation of a great mistake. He was correct.

Remember, Pia," he whispers. "Perfect is as perfect does.

Ride higher in life unto the higher life.

She didn’t know exactly when she had first felt the sensation of regret. It was a physical sensation, a shudder that began deep in the stomach and traveled up through the throat; it was distinct from remorse, which one felt first in the throat and only later in the gut. Yet it was regret that she couldn’t handle. She did anything she could to avoid it—including the initial bargain, the one that began everything. And now this one.

Self love is the elixir of an immortal heart.

Shadowed beneath his brow bone were cold dark eyes containing secrets and sadness, bitterness and grief.

She awoke knowing what she had been dreaming about. She was a deer in the headlights to his grinning face. In those first moments before she was fully awakened she hadn’t had time to hide her true feelings. He’d read them loud and clear. This was the moment that would start the seductive tango. There was one giant problem. Kayn could not dance her way out of a paper bag.

She could not bring herself to turn away from the night sky, for the stars and the blackness were the only escape she had when old faded memories returned to haunt her.

She had lost herself in this old work, her personality dissolving into it, so that she had been set free. The immortality of the soul lies in its dissolution; this was the cryptic comment that so frustrated Olivier and which Julien had only ever grasped as evidence for the history of a particular school of thought. He had known all about its history, but Julia knew what it meant. He found the realization strangely reassuring.

She'll be waiting for me. Never before had he wanted immortality so badly.

She smiled as she imagined that the sun’s last rays were flames from a distant dragon.

She wondered how to mourn the death of a son who wasn't dead. And yet the loss of separation made that easy. The idea of pain made pain, where she knew none could possibly truly exist.

Shout out for Joy! Don`t scream out in fear for victors shout and victims scream.

Sit here, so I may write you into a poem and make you eternal.

Some believe what separates men from animals is our ability to reason. Others say it’s language or romantic love, or opposable thumbs. Living here in this lost world, I’ve come to believe it is more than our biology. What truly makes us human is our unending search, our abiding desire for immortality.

Somehow everything always came down to time, she realized with perfect lucidity. There was either too much or too little. It either passed too quickly or too slowly. It didn’t belong to anyone—it was simply a gift, bestowed by God, and yet eternally taken for granted. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing Time could be tamed—reigned in—and tethered, synchronized with human needs and wants. But that wasn’t the case, was it?

Some might claim that like the secret of flying is missing the ground, the secret to immortality is simply not dying.

Some people thought I was dead. I had to keep a low profile.' 'Why... why did some people think you were dead?' 'Because they killed me.

Stealing someone’s money is not nearly as bad as wasting their time.

Stories are all we humans have to make us immortal.

Success is not money, cars, fame or material possessions but the lives you touched positively.

That moment when this heart.. stops.. almost as if it never existed. When every.. breathe.. slows down.. almost as if you never ... needed as single breathe of air When time stops.. almost as if every second never mattered. In that moment... I'm infinite. In that moment... I am immortal. In that moment... I am Finally alive.