Best 9776 quotes in «death quotes» category

Love each other or die.

Love is the greatest link that we have with those who have temporarily left us.

Love like Death,, Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook Beside the scepter

Love masters agony; the soul that seemed Forsaken feels her present God again And in her Father's arms Contented dies away.

Madam Life's a piece in bloom Death goes dogging everywhere: she's the tenant of the room, he's the ruffian on the stair.

Man, as long as he lives, is immortal. One minute before his death he shall be immortal. But one minute later, God wins.

Man dies of cold, not of darkness.

Manifestly, dying is nothing to a really great and brave man.

Man cannot live without some knowledge of the purpose of life. If he can find no purpose in life he creates one in the inevitability of death.

Man has the possibility of existence after death. But possibility is one thing and the realization of the possibility is quite a different thing.

Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave.

Man is the only animal that contemplates death, and also the only animal that shows any sign of doubt of its finality.

Man's destructive hand spares nothing that lives; he kills to feed himself, he kills to clothe himself, he kills to adorn himself, he kills to attack, he kills to defend himself, he kills to instruct himself, he kills to amuse himself, he kills for the sake of killing.

Man lives freely only by his readiness to die.

Man lives two lives, woe, were it otherwise! One is seized by death, the other one, his honor, remains.

Man should ever look to his last day, and no one should be called happy before his funeral. [Lat., Ultima semper Expectanda dies homini est, dicique beatus Ante obitum nemo et suprema funera debet.]

Man only of all earthly creatures, asks, Can the dead die forever? - and the instinct that urges the question is God's answer to man, for no instinct is given in vain.

Man's last day must ever be awaited and none to be counted happy until his death, until his last funeral rites are paid.

Many people die with their music still in them. Why is this so? Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live. Before they know it, time runs out.

Many persons sigh for death when it seems far off, but the inclination vanishes when the boat upsets, or the locomotive runs off the track, or the measles set it.

Mark, how the ready hands of Death prepare: His bow is bent, and he hath notch'd his dart; He aims, he levels at thy slumb'ring heart: The wound is posting, O be wise, beware.

Marla tells me how in the wild you don't see old animals because as soon as they age, animals die. If they get sick or slow down, something stronger kills them. Animals aren't meant to get old. Marla lies down on her bed and undoes the tie on her bathrobe, and says our culture has made death something wrong. Old animals should be an unnatural exception. Freaks.

MARTYR, One who moves along the line of least reluctance to a desired death.

Martyrdom has always been a proof of the intensity, never of the correctness of a belief.

maybe death isn't darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us--

May the culture of life and love render vain the logic of death.

Maybe this is why so many serial killers work in pairs. It's nice not to feel alone in a world full of victims or enemies. It's no wonder Waltraud Wagner, the Austrian Angel of Death, convinced her friends to kill with her. It just seems natural. You and me against the world.

May God have mercy on my soul for the deaths on my name and for the treachery I committed. Betrayal of God and country, what a sad and horrible thing it is.

Men are born soft and supple; dead, they are stiff and hard. Plants are born tender and pliant; dead, they are brittle and dry. Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible is a disciple of death. Whoever is soft and yielding is a disciple of life. The hard and stiff will be broken. The soft and supple will prevail.

Men after death ... are understood worse than men of the moment, but heard better.

Men are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive, your case is doubtful; you have a right only to their skepticism.

Men die and they are not happy.

Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased by tales, so is the other.

Meditation is a dress rehearsal for death.

Memories... images and precious thoughts that shall not die and cannot be destroyed.

Men are convinced of your arguments, your sincerity, and the seriousness of your efforts only by your death.

Men believe death's elections to be a thing inscrutable yet every act invites the act which follows and to the extent that men put one foot before the other they are accomplices in their own deaths as in all such facts of destiny.

Men fear silence as they fear solitude, because both give them a glimpse of the terror of life's nothingness.

Men sooner forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony

Michael O'Sullivan was my great friend. But I don't ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead.

Mexican writer and diplomat, "Pasado en claro" ("A Draft of Shadows") You learn something the day you die. You learn how to die.

Mild is the slow necessity of death; The tranquil spirit fails beneath its grasp, Without a groan, almost without a fear, Resigned in peace to the necessity; Calm as a voyager to some distant land, And full of wonder, full of hope as he.

Middle age snuffs out more talent than even wars or sudden death.

Monogamy is god's way of making death seem like a more reasonable option.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Modern thought has transferred the spectral character of Death to the notion of time itself. Time has become Death triumphant over all.

Modern death is a matter of bright rooms and hard machines. Live long enough, and you might be filed away in a nursing home, your history scoured away, your life winnowed down to a few items on the table and some pictures of people who don't come around enough. When you are about to pass on, there is no quiet to attend you: busy fuss and professional zeal strive to bring you back, nail you to the soft cross of the rented bed.

Most men ebb and flow in wretchedness between the fear of death and the hardship of life; they are unwilling to live, and yet they do not know how to die.

More than illness or death, the American journalist fears standing alone against the whim of his owners or the prejudices of his audience. Deprive William Safire of the insignia of the New York Times, and he would have a hard time selling his truths to a weekly broadsheet in suburban Duluth.

Mortality has its compensations; one is that all evils are transitory, another that better times may come.