Best 9776 quotes in «death quotes» category

You see, Squirt, there's heaven, and then there's hell. Hell is where they send all the bad people, like criminals and con artists and parking inspectors. And heaven is where they send all the good people, like you and me and that nice blonde from MasterChef. What happens when you get there? In heaven, you hang out with God and Jimi Hendrix, and you get to eat doughnuts whenever you want. In hell, you have to, uh . . . do the Macarena. Forever. To that "Grease Megamix." Where do you go if you're good and bad? What? I don't know. IKEA?

You should know we had so much joy as well! But when you build a story down, you end up with something macabre. All stories end the same way, don't they.

You should never attack a necromancer in a cemetery; it’s like chasing Rambo into a building full of loaded guns. Some people seem to help you kill them.

You should be so lucky to be like me. I allow myself to be disturbed too often. I'll probably end up talking to birds in a park. But you'll probably end up with regrets.

You shouldn’t have done that, Dave.

You still waste time with those things, Lenu? We are flying over a ball of fire. The part that has cooled floats on the lava. On that part we construct the buildings, the bridges, and the streets, and every so often the lava comes out of Vesuvius or causes an earthquake that destroys everything. There are microbes everywhere that make us sick and die. There are wars. There is a poverty that makes us all cruel. Every second something might happen that will cause you such suffering that you'll never have enough tears. And what are you doing? A theology course in which you struggle to understand what the Holy Spirit is? Forget it, it was the Devil who invented the world, not the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Do you want to see the string of pearls that Stefano gave me?

You start dying slowly if you do not travel, if you do not read, If you do not listen to the sounds of life, If you do not appreciate yourself. You start dying slowly When you kill your self-esteem; When you do not let others help you. You start dying slowly If you become a slave of your habits, Walking everyday on the same paths… If you do not change your routine, If you do not wear different colours Or you do not speak to those you don’t know. You start dying slowly If you avoid to feel passion And their turbulent emotions; Those which make your eyes glisten And your heart beat fast. You start dying slowly If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love, If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain, If you do not go after a dream, If you do not allow yourself, At least once in your lifetime, To run away from sensible advice.

You too are going to die, and that's because you too were fortunate enough to have lived. You may not feel this. But go stand on a cliff sometime, and maybe you will.

You should assume the mantle of your birthright.

You strive all through your life, to get somewhere, to be something, Some One, to matter, to have this, to have that, fill up your life with possessions, bonds, connections and in the end, the greed is still there, one does not want to let go, not unless the great gods come down and say enough is enough, no more......till then all you want is one more day." - Frank Adams

You smell so good," "No, I don't, I smell like death." "You're crazy, you're not dead. You do not smell like death." "I was dead a long time." "And now you're not. Hence the alive smell.

You start to die the moment you are born. The whole of life is cutting through the pack with death. So take it easy.

You take refuge in pets, and then there are pets that you love more than you thought you could, and the years go by fast, and suddenly you're standing there watching as they don't die quickly from the injection like the vet assured you they would. And you stand there feeling like once again you're screwing up the bigger plan that something up there must have, trying to snuff this innocent thing out quietly and quickly because of what happened inside of its liver, heart, and kidneys; because they said there would be only painful weeks left anyway; weeks of more breakdown and bad cell division, bleeding, dehydration; you couldn't stand seeing the pain, the blood coming up again, and innocent eyes full of confusion and so you said yes. You think you're being strong again, you agree, you bring her in, one quick little tiny sting and then it's off to sleep in heaven, if animals can get in. The paw is shaved, the little sting happens, you put her favorite toy down next to the cold, clear, thin hose full of a drip of who knows, the hose that has no idea what it's really doing today, the tube you keep second-guessing. But, go, just go, just go, just do this, fuck, nobody's ever going to explain it, do it, do it, do it. And suddenly she's full of life again, looking at you like you've made yet another mistake on this planet, how the fuck did this happen, how does any of it happen, cats, dogs, babies, parents, all turned to fucking angels living in a place you aren't even sure you believe in.

You take me off my path As the wind exhausts the clouds You tell me not to try To hold your face But even if you're only A reflection on a wall -You make me live. And I know that your lips Will triumph from oblivion In the book of the world.

You think, if a man he sincerely repent of what he done wrong, he might get to go back to the time that was happiest for him and live there forever? Could that be what heaven is like?

You too, you took an interest in the world. That was long ago. I want you to cast your mind back to then. The domain of the rules was no longer enough for you; you were unable to love any longer in the domain of the rules; so you had to enter into the domain of the struggle. I ask you to go back to that precise moment. It was long ago, no? Cast your mind back: the water was cold. You are far from the edge, now. Oh yes! How far from the edge you are! You long believed in the existence of another shore; such is no longer the case. You go on swimming, though, and every movement you make brings you closer to drowning. You are suffocating, your lungs are on fire. The water seems colder and colder to you, more and more galling. You aren't that young anymore. Now you are going to die. Don't worry. I am here. I won't let you sink. Go on with your reading.

You think it's so great to die and make everyone cry and carry on. Well it ain't.

You two had something that had to be kept on ice, yes, incorruptible, yes!--and death was the only icebox where you could keep it....

You’ve been lucky so far, right? […] So keep on being lucky.

You told me the dead live on as long as people remember them, that love keeps the dead alive, but that's not true. Love plus death equals nothing at all. Death kills, you know, that's the truth that puts you out of a job. There's no virtual James in my head. What lives on is my memory, which is part of me and not him. My memory cannot surprise me, call me in the middle of the afternoon with an explicit request for the evening, smile when I wake him with croissants on Sunday mornings. He is ash and bone, James. Gone.

You see, the thing is, we write our own eulogies. Someone else delivers it, yes, but each of us authors his own in the life he lives and the memories he leaves.

You weren’t alone,” he says, making sure I hear every word. “And you weren’t floating.” “How do you know?” I ask. “Because I was carrying you.

You Were My Death You were my death: you I could hold when all fell away from me.

YOU WERE MY FAVORITE THING AND IN IMAGINATION YOUR DEATH WILL NOT EXIST IT IS ALL 'AS IF' FROM NOW ON AS IF YOU ARE NOT GONE YOU WILL BE THE GIRL BESIDE ME NEVER MORE THAN A HEARTBEAT LENGTH AWAY THE WOMAN WHO WILL BE THE HILL OF MY BED A CLIMB TO THE TOP AND SUCH VIEWS TO MAKE LITTLE THINGS OF LITTLE US THAT WILL BE PART YOU AND PART ME AND WHOLE IN THOSE TWO THINGS AS IF YOU ARE NOT GONE AND WILL BE WITH ME TO GET THE WRINKLES THE WHITE HAIR THE SPINE SHAPED LIKE A ROCKING CHAIR AS IF YOU ARE NOT GONE AND SO WILL HAVE THE LOVE OF GOING IN MY ARMS WARM AND WITH ME YES, YOU ARE MY FAVORITE THING YOU ALWAYS WILL BE.

You were born together, and together you shall be for evermore. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

You were born out of death - and will collapse back into its entropic embrace. The future is yet to be born, the past is ashes - and the present expires even as we cradle it to our wanting breast.

You were free, you are free and you will be free.

You were made for loving.” Her fingers were tangled in the sheet. She rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes a crack to look at him. Only then did he say, “By me.

You were just a young girl not wanting to let on that death could happen to one who hadn't even lived yet.

You will always end up in frustration whenever you try to produce outside your purpose.

You will be the first test subject, Tobias. Beatrice, however...." She smiles. "You are too injured to be of much use to me, so your execution will occur at the conclusion of this meeting." I try to hide the shudder that goes through me at the word "execution," my shoulder screaming with pain, and look up at Tobias. It's hard to blink tears back when I see the terror in Tobias's wide, dark eyes. "No," says Tobias. His voice trembles, but his look stern as he shakes his head. "I would rather die." "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice in that matter," replies Jeanine lightly. Tobias takes my face in this hands roughly and kisses me, the pressure of his lips pushing mine apart. I forget my pain and the terror of approaching death and for a moment, I am grateful that the memory of that kiss will be fresh in my mind as I meet my end.

You will live in me always. Your words, your heart, your soul are all part of me. My heart is full of your memories. Thank you for the gift of your life. I will never forget you.

You will die, and when you die, you will know a profound lack of it [dignity]. It's never dignified, always brutal. What's dignified about dying? It's never dignified. And in obscurity? Offensive. Dignity is an affectation, cute but eccentric, like learning French or collecting scarves. And it's fleeting and incredibly mercurial. And subjective. So fuck it.

YOU WILL NOT TELL THE RIVERS NOT TO FLOW. YOU WILL NOT TELL THE SUN NOT TO SHINE. YOU WILL NOT TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD AND SHOULD NOT DO.

...you will open your hands and feel the sweat on your palms and perhaps you will remember that you were born without lifelines on your hand, without fortune, life, or love: you were born, you will be born with a smooth palm, but all you have to do is be born; after a few hours, that blank surface will be filled with signs, lines, portents. You will die with your dense lines worn out, but all you have to do is die for all trace of your destiny to disappear from your hands after a few hours. Chaos has no plural.

Absence, like death, sets a seal on the image of those we love: we cannot realize the intervening changes which time may have effected.

you will always die you will live forever you are nothing & nobody you are made of stars — you will be forgotten

You will never get a satisfactory answer, no matter how much effort or reason you expend, to these types of questions. You probably can't even hope to acquire even mildly strong evidence either way. You will never know, beyond doubt, in advance, what is going to happen to you when you die. Never! And really why should you care? Why do you give a rat's ass? You're five years old. Don't worry about what happens when you die, worry about what happens when you live for crying out loud! Christ, if I was your age, I'd be out living it up, hitting on chicks, getting drunk, c'mon. You with me kid?

You will try to improve me, Captain, but I tell you it cannot be done. I am resigned to moral apathy and corporeal decrepitude, and have done with projections. No, Captain,” with a pining sigh, “I think I will simply sit in the shade and wait for either a customer or death, the latter I might prefer, at such a point.

You will take his life but you can't take his memory out of us.

A bearer of news of death appears to himself as very important. His feeling - even against all reason - makes him a messenger from the realm of the dead.

A beautiful death is for people who have lived like animals to die like angels.

Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.

Absolute monarchy,... is the easiest death, the true Euthanasia of the BRITISH constitution.

According to most studies, people's number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.

Accessible design is good design.

About the presence of death and dying I don't remember the society in the 1950s being so skittish as it has since become. People still died at home, among relatives and friends, often in the care of a family physician. Death was still to be seen sitting in the parlor, hanging in a butcher shop, sometimes lying in the street.

A civilization that denies death ends by denying life.

According to your medical checkup, you are dead.

A death is the most terrible of facts.