Best 9776 quotes in «death quotes» category

I am sure of God's hand and guidance... You must never doubt that I am thankful and glad to go the way which I am being led. My past life is abundantly full of God's mercy and, above all sin, stands the forgiving love of the Crucified.

I am so often moved by souls whose first concern is not for their own lost years, but for the grief their passing will cause to those they love. It's more common than you might think. The most ordinary mortal bodies are housed by spectacular souls.

I am so very grateful that I serve a God who walks the difficult roads with us, whether we recognise Him there or not. I am so very grateful for a God who has experienced betrayal, fear and death himself and overcomes them all.

I am the living dead girl because I am too weak to die. I hate those crying dough women on TV because they are just like me, weak and broken and clinging to the hands that hold us under.

I am time, the destroyer of all; I have come to consume the world.

I am writing to go back to the time, at the rest stop in Virginia, when you stared, horror-struck at the taxidermy buck hung over the soda machine by the restrooms, its antlers shadowing your face. In the car, you kept shaking your head. " I don't understand why they would do that. Can't they see it's a corpse? A corpse should go away, not get stuck forever like that." I think now of that buck, how you stared into its black glass eyes and saw your reflection, your whole body, warped in that lifeless mirror. How it was not the grotesque mounting of a decapitated animal that shook you - but that the taxidermy embodied a death that won't finish, a death that keeps dying as we walk past it to relieve ourselves.

I am the wind...I am death.

I am your little ram, burying his muzzle in thick grass of your pasture, folded by you at night, herded by day, a dedicated dog nipping at my hocks. The day will come for you to draw the bright sickle of the moon across my wooly throat. Do it with love, without regret.

I at least know what I am and do not try to hide it from the rest of the world. Do you know what you are? Because you can only be one thing at a time.

...and the hermit's spirit detaches itself, ever so gently, and begins its lonely passage upward, to find its final resting place among the stars.

I applied mine heart to know, and to search, and to seek out wisdom, And the reason of things, And to know the wickedness of folly, even of foolishness and madness: And I find more bitter than death, the woman, whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands-

I assume you are the sort of person who would go backstage after the opera in hopes of hearing the prima donna crying on the telephone, or walking in on the baritone fellating the basso buffo. I respect that-I was always the same way myself-though I suspect you are not very happy. Happiness is the province of those who ask few questions. I remember, even before this was visited upon me, how I envied those who eagerly did what they were told: those who married without complaint at father's behest; those who looked up rather than sideways in church; those, in short, who honestly believed in God, good kings, and righteous wars.

I bear within me the seed, the rudiments, the possibility of life's capacities and endeavors. Where might I be, if I were not here? Who, what, how could I be, if I were not me, if this outward appearance that is me did not encase me, separating my consciousness from that of others who are not me? An organism—a blind, rash, pitiful eruption of the insistent assertion of the will. Far better, really, if that will were to drift free in a night without time or space, than to languish in a prison cell lit only by the flickering, uncertain flame of the intellect.

I ask you, what would you do if you could erase one bad memory and retain all that was beautiful in your life? Would you not move heaven and earth - and get loads of therapy - to have that?

I ask her: Wouldn't it be easier to just give death a different name?

I ask, if I shall never see you again and fix my eyes on that solidity, what form will our communication take? You have gone across the court, further and further, drawing finer and finer the thread between us. But you exist somewhere. Something of you remains.

I been sitting here by Millie's grave trying to figure out death, but it's a hard mystery to unravel. I don't know why God gives it to us to bear 'cause it leaves so deep a scar when we lose a loved one. We make up all these dumb clichés to try and explain what happens after death but not a one of them makes a lick of sense to me. Thinking there's a heaven somewhere don't mean shit. I have no guarantee of any heaven and having faith in something I can't see makes me feel like a fool.

I began an expedition called Grief. An alternate route along my sacred wandering. A detour with tears and troubles. On this voyage, I sensed God warning me, “Buckle up! It's going to be a bumpy ride.

I beg for justice, which you, Prince, must give. Romeo killed Tybalt; Romeo must not live.

I begin my life. I live again. I meet a young girl called Valeria. She smiles easily. She laughs tender sounds that pull at my heart. I’m too young to be profound but she makes me feel so safe. So cherished. I am thirty years old. I bump into a woman I knew when she was a girl. Valeria looks annoyed to see me. She lives in the future. Where the world is turning. I live within the past. Where the people are trapped and screaming and alone. I live within the past when Valeria and I were in love. She’s waiting for the cab to come, her foot tapping against the sidewalk. Her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes. I’m eager to reunite our lives through some kind of friendship. I’m so eager to know her again, as she was when she was a child. But Valeria lives within the future. I live within the past. Have the two ever gotten along? Have they ever even met?

I believe that there is something connecting us ... Something that was here before we got here and will still be here after we're gone. I've begun to believe that all of our consciousnesses are bound up in that greater consciousness. ... An animating presence .... [pp. 205-206]

I believe that to be the world's greatest living writer there must be something terribly wrong with you. I don't even want to be the world's greatest dead writer. just being dead would be fair enough.

I believe there are ways whose ends are life instead of death.

I believe that we are arks of the covenant and our true nature is not rage or deceit or terror or logic or craft or even sorrow. It is longing.

I believe there is no heaven or hell. There are no devils or angels. No afterlife or salvation. My soul won't be incarnated or lost in the oblivion. One day, I will just stop existing... and that's it!

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean But I shall be good health to you nonetheless And filter and fibre your blood.

I blast out the ghastly contents of philosophically whited sepulchers and laugh with sardonic wrath! Compton

But, orderly to end where I begun: Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. So think thou wilt no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

I CALL on world believers of righteousness to wage 'all-out war' on the World Government, the infidels...

I beseech thee, O Lord, let me have understanding: For it was not my mind to be curious of the high things, but of such as pass by us daily.

I came here with nothing and not being aware of anything when I arrived, and I shall go with nothing and not even being aware of what is covering me, except what, what was in me may see, when my me and my true me has been separated! I must, therefore, whiles I am here, mind what is in me. Yes, I must mind what is in me: my true me, my soul and my spirit, and I must seek to do my all with my true me so as to please the Sovereign Lord God Almighty, so that in the end, I may be rewarded with a crown of victory, having conquered all obstacles with tenacity and due diligence to do leave distinctive footprints worthy of praise!

I called Isaac, who cursed life and the universe and God Himself and who said where are the goddamned trophies to break when you need them, and then I realized there was no one else to call, which was the saddest thing. The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Waters’s death was Augustus Waters.

I can feel the grip of lost lives beneath me, starved hearts hoping to escape their shadowy fates.

i can gladly die today knowing that a part of me will always remain within you...

I can hear my mom. I can hear her take a deep breath. I hear her pushing words out, and I can almost see her, for a second, the look on her face, her hand pressed to her own heart, the other in a fist. "You can go if you have to go," my mom says, and her voice shakes, but she's solid. She says it again, so I'll know. "You can go if you have to go, okay, baby? Don't wait for me. I love you, you're mine, you'll always be mine, and this is going to be okay, you're safe, baby, you're safe-" ...And after that? There's nothing.

I can just close my eyes and let myself fall into oblivion. Maybe I'll hit the exact same rocks and my blood will mingle with his and maybe there's some kind of life after death and he's waiting for me there with his hand outstretched just like mine. But... I don't want to die. I try to twist my body backwards and pain shoots up my neck. It's too late. I chose life too late.

I came to realize we are held in the arms of God and are utterly completely safe - in life and in death; whether walking alone or with others.

I can guarantee that a hundred questions will not find my soul mate. I know this because he’s dead.

I came to understand the most intriguing irony of life, that the most intimate partner of life is death. (Page 94)

I cannot help but come to believe, there should be a disclaimer for the soul upon entering this life stating: This will destroy you but it is not the end. Every immortal thing must die once to learn that it is immortal. One life ends but another begins.

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

I cannot tell you...my little one. No man can tell you. No...I cannot answer you, for nothing I could say would be the truth. The truth is beyond us, and is not in us. We go forward in faith. That is all. Nobody can tell us why the Son of Man had to go. He was Prince of Light. He could have ruled the world. But He was crucified, and when men would have fought for Him, He told them to put up their swords. He allowed a rabble to crucify Him. Why did He die in that way when He could have chosen any? To save us, we know. But why did He die in only that way? It was ordained? Then dare we say that Dilys was ordained to die as she did?

I cannot explain love. I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you. That you were the center of everything I did and felt and thought.

I cannot live to hear the news from England. But I do prophesy th' election lights On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice. So tell him, with th' occurents, more and less, Which have solicited - the rest is silence.

I can see her struggling to find the right word. Death seems so harsh. Passing so oblique. Some things are beyond words, I suppose, and she never finishes the statement. It seems right, that her words should fall into oblivion; after all, she—like me, like everyone—has no words for what follows, for the unknowable, only her hopes and prayers and an unwavering faith in something more.

I can pretend it’s all pretend! I can be the life of your death and you can be the death of my life… what a trade-off!

I can see death and more death, till we are black and swollen with death.

I can see the cracks in society, in people, in this world and I'd rather die before slipping into one of them.

I cannot live, if I am already dead.

I can't let the killing go on. No more death, not because of me. This is the only way. You and I both know it. Eio.