Best 9776 quotes in «death quotes» category

It's an unavoidable truth. Fear of life closes off more opportunities for us than fear of death ever does.

It seems to be remarkable that death increases our veneration for the good, and extenuates our hatred for the bad.

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 seems to me that the idea of a personal God is an anthropological concept which I cannot take seriously. I also cannot imagine some will or goal outside the human sphere... Science has been charged with undermining morality, but the charge is unjust. A man's ethical behavior should be based effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties and needs; no religious basis is necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by fear of punishment and hope of reward after death.

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!

It's not easy to live every moment wholly aware of death. It's like trying to stare the sun in the face: you can stand only so much of it. Because we cannot live frozen in fear, we generate methods to soften death's terror. We project ourselves into the future through our children; we grow rich, famous, ever larger; we develop compulsive protective rituals; or we embrace an impregnable belief in an ultimate rescuer.

It's mighty funny. The end of time has just begun.

It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you. It's what you leave behind you when you go.

It's so unfair that we should die, just because we are born.

It's sad when our daddies die. Makes us one less person inside.

It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does ?

It's a thing of violence, to whom death would be a merciful release.

It used to be I thought of death as a man something like Grandfather a friend of his a kind of private and particular friend like we used to think of Grandfather's desk not to touch it not even to talk loud in the room where it was.

It's what you do, unthinking, that makes the quick tear start; the tear may be forgotten.... but the hurt stays in the heart.

It was all devastating. I'd never dealt with losing anyone close to me, and I didn't know where to put it in my life. I was very young then. Buddy taught me so much in such a short time.

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee;-- And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

It takes so many years to learn that one is dead.

It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.

It was not until after the coming of Christ that time and humans could breathe freely. It was not until after him that people began to live toward the future. Humans do not die in a ditch like a dog-but at home in history, while the work toward the conquest of death is in full swing; they die sharing in this work.

I've been thinking of death a lot, and I am amazed by its inevitability, frightened, as we all are, of the totally unknown, and yet feel a long sleep is somehow earned by those of us who live on the edge.

I've just read that I am dead. Don't forget to delete me from your list of subscribers.

It were well to die if there be gods, and sad to live if there be none.

I used to be afraid of two things - being alone and not being able to write. Since Albert's death, I don't care about writing or about other people.

I've played everything but the harp.

I venture that those of us who are most serene when faced with the possibility of nothingness are the ones who've reached furthest to the downward and upward of their beings.

I want death to find me planting my cabbages.

I want to be all used up when I die.

I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.

I want to be a pretty corpse.

I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, 'Why?' Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, 'No, that's not right.' Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.

I want to go when I want. It is tasteless to prolong life artificially. I have done my share, it is time to go. I will do it elegantly.

I want to meet my God awake.

I was afraid of the pain of dying and terribly reluctant to leave the world behind because I liked life a lot, even if it had been pretty tough sometimes.

I was given life because it was my time, and now I take leave of it according to the same law. Content with the natural sequence of these events, I am touched neither by joy nor by grief. I am simply hanging in the air ... incapable of freeing myself, tied by the threads of things.

I was always fascinated by forbidden things people didn't want to talk about, like death.

I will be conquered; I will not capitulate.

I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

I will garden on the double run, my rhythm obvious in the ringing rakes, and trust in fate to keep me poor and kind and work until my heart is short, then go out slowly with a feeble grin, my fingers flexing but my eyes gone gray from cramps and the lack of oxygen.

I will not die an unlived life...I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me...I choose to risk my significance.

I will not insult you by trying to tell you that one day you will forget. I know as well as you that you will not. But, at least, in time you will not remember as fiercely as you do now - and I pray that that time may be soon.

I was young and foolish then; now I am old and foolisher.

I was born in Tyrone, 1956, for something I didn't do. I was innocent. But they gave me life. I still remember the midwife who extradited me.

I wonder if heaven got a ghetto?

I wonder what day I shall die on - one passes year by year over one's death day, as one might pass over one's grave.

I would have picked up the artificial heart and thrown it on the floor and walked out and said he's dead if the press had not been there.

I would like to die on Mars. Just not on impact.

I would not that death should take me asleep. I would not have him merely seize me, and only declare me to be dead, but win me, and overcome me. When I must shipwreck, I would do it in a sea, where mine impotency might have some excuse; not in a sullen weedy lake, where I could not have so much as exercise for my swimming.

I would rather die a meaningful death than to live a meaningless life.

Just girt me for the onset with Eternity, When breath blew back, And on the other side I heard recede the disappointed tide!

Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.