Best 9776 quotes in «death quotes» category

A vida das pessoas acaba assim e Matilde nem sequer tem consciência de que morreu uma das suas mortes. De cada vez que deixamos de ser percebidos, morremos. Quando somos enterrados deixamos de ser percebidos por toda a gente, mas quando os outros já não olham para nós, ficaram condenados para um número limitado de pessoas, a uma morte em tudo idêntica à outra. A nossa morte não acontece quando somos enterrados, acontece continuamente: os dentes caem, os joelhos solidificam, a pele engelha-se, os amigos partem. Tudo isso é a morte. O momento final é apenas isso, um momento.

Awareness of mortality exerts a unique power to focus the mind and heart on essentials.

Awareness is a choiceless consciousness. Awareness is the capacity to embrace, accept and include both joy and sadness, love and aloneness, light and darkness, male and female qualities and life and death. Through saying “yes” and accepting both tendencies and including whatever aspect that happens in the moment, we meet our unlimited and boundless inner being. The inner man and woman need to find their own independence and integrity.

A wise man is someone who knows how to convert obstacles into resources.

- A więc, panie doktorze - odezwała się trochę za głośno, radosnym, zdecydowanym tonem gwiazdy filmowej z lat czterdziestych - to wyrok śmierci czy dożywocie?

A woman's death is a simple enough thing perhaps; women will always be dying about the place; no doubt several women have died as I have been writing this sentence; only this one woman who concerns me now, this one woman tied up to the rafters, unlike all the others in the world - this woman was my mother. Before, I had always had Mother to hide behind; now I was exposed. Her death was not a quiet, thinking-death like Father's had been, her death was about business; it was all hurried action; Mother had jolted herself out of life.

A world without death would have no beauty, no yellow leaves in the autumn. It would be boring. There would be no change because change implies death. A world without death would be a frozen world. The fact is that we want to make the world better than God does.

A woman is a deep Ditch, said he, her House inclines to Death and her Paths unto the Devil

A world where parents die and brothers die and nothing stops to respect that fact. The whole universe just goes and goes as if nothing has happened...

A wound gives strange dignity to him who bears it. Well men shy from his new and terrible majesty. It is as if the wounded man's hand is upon the curtain which hangs before the revelations of all existence - the meaning of ants, potentates, wars, cities, sunshine, snow, a feather dropped from a bird's wing; and the power of it sheds radiance upon a bloody form, and makes the other men understand sometimes that they are little. His comrades look at him with large eyes thoughtfully. Moreover, they fear vaguely that the weight of a finger upon him might send him headlong, precipitate the tragedy, hurl him at once into the dim, gray unknown. ("An Episode Of War")

A writer out of loneliness is trying to communicate like a distant star sending signals. He isn't telling, or teaching, or ordering. Rather, he seeks to establish a relationship with meaning, of feeling, of observing. We are lonesome animals. We spend all our live trying to be less lonesome. And one of our ancient methods is to tell a story, begging the listener to say, and to feel, "Yes, that's the way it is, or at least that's the way I feel it. You're not as alone as you thought." To finish is sadness to a writer, a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn't really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done.

Bad business last night. Chances are, that would be all Graham had to say about the death of a man he had known his whole life. These folk knew all about death. They killed their own livestock. They died from fevers, falls, or broken bones gone sour. Death was like an unpleasant neighbor. You didn't talk about him for fear he might hear you and decide to pay a visit.

Back then, living hadn't had any meaning. Every so often, without any warning or any real reason, he'd even caught himself thinking, 'Maybe I'll try dying.' He'd had one foot in the world of the dead, and yet the other foot had been chained to the world of the living, and he couldn't pull it out; he'd just looed on disinterestedly, sort of like it was all happening on the other side of some window, as the dull, vague world passed him by. Never making any more to walk out into it himself. Somewhere along the way, though, he'd stopped thinking about trying to die. He wondered when that had happened.

Bad things are not life. For example, death is not life. If you are truly confronting life, you must confront the good things.

Bagi beberapa orang, kematian adalah duka, perpisahan abadi. Tapi bagi orang-orang itu, kematian adalah bisnis.

Balls is good, dude. Balls is just - it's straight up. You know what you're getting with balls. Death is what you're getting.

Bambi was inspired, and said trembling, "There is Another who is over us all, over us and over Him.

BASIC LIFE ATTRIBUTES Four purusharthas or goals of the life be, So very crystal clear in life undisputedly; 1 Artha getting useful wealth and prosperity, Finding the meaning for living herein truly; 2 Kama fulfilling desires, acting repeatedly, It the physical, material desire fulfillment be; 14 Dharma – the foundation of all human goals be, Refers to obligations, conduct, moral duties; 25 Moksha – the liberation from the web of maya be, Freedom from the cycles of birth and death clearly; 33 As all the rivers must lead to the sea eventually, All spiritual paths leading to the same goal finally; 43 And all of the variety of life are created certainly, By combination of the three Gunas undisputedly. 44

Baylon wasn't sure he could conceal his craving for her, the need that clawed and ripped through him to declare Jordyn as his. It would be a death sentence, but to live without her... that was also a death sentence.

Could I but acquaint the world with Robert G. Ingersoll's humanity, with his ideas and his sentiments of love, patience and understanding, a renascence would automatically take place that would give life and living on this little earth of ours some semblance of what we call paradise. And this great and wonderful man had to die! I do not know the purpose of life, nor do I understand why death should come to all that is; but this I do know -- that when Robert G. Ingersoll died, on July 21, 1899, then you and I, and the whole world, suffered a mortal blow. When the mighty heart, of his mighty body, that supplied the blood to his mighty brain, burst, never again was there to fall from his eloquent lips the pearls of thought that had been so wondrously formed in his brain. The mightiest voice in all the world was silenced, forever. No wonder the people wept when they heard that Ingersoll was dead. He was the greatest of the Great -- the Mightiest of the Mighty. He was 'as constant as the Northern Star whose true fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.' He was the indistinguishable star whose brilliance never dimmed. When Robert G. Ingersoll died, his death was 'the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of time ... When shall we ever see another?' When Robert G. Ingersoll died, the sky should have been rent asunder, and Nature should have gone into mourning. When this man died, Nature's masterpiece was destroyed, and hot tears of grief should have fallen from the heavens. Robert G. Ingersoll no longer belongs to his family; He no longer belongs to his friends; He no longer belongs to his country; Robert G. Ingersoll now belongs to all the world -- the whole universe -- He is immortal and eternal. Among the galaxies of Nature's masterpieces, none shine with a greater brilliance than the babe who was born in this house 121 years ago today, and named Robert Green Ingersoll.

Dying Speech of an Old Philosopher I strove with none, for none was worth my strife. Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art: I warm'd both hands before the fire of life; It sinks; and I am ready to depart.

Be anxious for no thing, be concerned about the state of your soul and that of your children, be concerned about God's work in the world; these are genuine concern but when it comes to the things in your life.....be not anxious. If God is for us who can be against us?

Death Be Not Proud Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Complainers Some people don't want to die Because you can't complain when you're dead I hope heaven is just a bunch of men lying around Ready to do what I say Ready with dicks and some such When I'm dead I won't be looking for a partner As much as a heavenly creature After all I was promised virgins But I don't care about that as much As the eyes looking into me in abandon Like porn but better Because there will be no screen There will be no holy divider then Between me and my brethren And the smell of sunshine Will emit from every brow That's the kind of thing I expect from death That's the kind of thing I'm waiting for

Dulce Et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Cochise: – We have fought long and as best we could against you. We have killed ten White Eyes for every Apache, but when one white man dies, many take his place. When one Apache dies, there is no one to take his place. We were no longer Indah, the living. We were now Indeh... the dead.

Be assured that any hurt to your spirit will pass in time. It is the nature of Death to take, but the nature of Life to give.

Beauty and death, so closely knit together. This seems to be the central theme of my life.

Beauty can be born out of not only love, but also pain and other motivations.

...beauty consists of its own passing, just as we reach for it. It's the ephemeral configuration of things in the moment, when you can see both their beauty and their death.

Be careful the mistake of yesterday always lives with tomorrow.

Because beauty consits of it's own passing, just as we reach for it. It's the ephemeral configuration of things in the moment, when you can see both their movement and their death.

Because Dad told you he'd be here forever. Because I thought forever was like Mars -- far away.

Because all these people have, you see, by this time already killed themselves, where it really counts. By the time these people swallow entire medicine cabinets or take naps in the garage or whatever, they’ve already been killing themselves for ever so long. When they ‘commit suicide’, they’re just being orderly.

Because honor still matters. Honor is what echoes." His father's words. But they are as empty on his lips as they feel in my ears. This was has taken everything from him. I see in his eyes how broken he is. how terribly hard he is trying to be his father's son. If he could, he would choose to be back by the campfire we made in the highlands of the Institute. He would return to the days of glory when life was simple, when friends seemed true. But wishing for the past doesn't clean the blood from either of our hands.

Because in the end, we die. It’s like Chekhov observed in so many of his plays: ‘in two hundred years, no one will even know we were here.

Because it isn’t a loss; just a little piece of their haven had broken off. People can patch things; it still may hurt, but that’s life.

Because madness is a lie too. Like night. Like death.

Because I was dying. 　　And Warner could’ve let me die. He was angry and hurt and had every reason to be bitter. I’d just ripped his heart out; I’d let him believe something would come of our relationship. I let him confess the depth of his feelings to me; I let him touch me in ways even Adam hadn't. I didn't ask him to stop. 　　Every inch of me was saying yes. 　　And then I took it all back. Because I was scared, and confused, and conflicted. Because of Adam. 　　Warner told me he loved me, and in return I insulted him and lied to him and yelled at him and pushed him away. And when he had the chance to stand back and watch me die, he didn’t. 　　He found a way to save my life. 　　With no demands. No expectations. Believing full well that I was in love with someone else, and that saving my life meant making me whole again only to give me back to another guy. 　　And right now, I can’t say I know what Adam would do if I were dying in front of him. I’m not sure if he would save my life. And that uncertainty alone makes me certain that something wasn't right between us.

Because Peter promised them adventures and happiness and then took them away to the island where they died. They weren’t forever young, unless dying when you were young kept you that way for always.

Because really, what do you have to lose? Your life? That's no big deal, I promise you. When you find out you might die, you're finally allowed to live like you never have before. If you lose your life while living the shit out of it, then you've done the best you could, and you shouldn't worry about death. When you're dead, you can't screw up. But while you're here, all you have are a few things to call your own. You have your integrity, your family, and your hope for the future. These are important and you should keep them somewhere safe where you'll remember them.

Because they died, we know we still live. Because a star explodes and a thousand worlds like ours die, we know this world is. That is the smile: that what might not be, is.

Because to exist meant making copies and copies of your own DNA with less and less accuracy with time, to lose the spring in your skin, to inhale a poisonous gas that both allowed your next breath and exploded you from the inside at an insidiously slow pace. To exist was to give way to entropy. To live, in no uncertain terms, was to die.

Because the plan God has for each of our lives isn't always the same plan we have for ourselves, Grace. Sometimes, our deaths have more of an impact than our births. It can inspire people to do great things, even greater than they would have had the deaths not happened at all.

Because through the heavy water, I heard the sound of an angel calling my name, calling me to the only heaven I wanted.

Because right now, I'm worse than dead. I'm forgotten.

Because you can only die once but you can suffer forever.

Becky was a weed.  Nobody ever wanted them taking over the bigger, prettier plants.  People went to all extremes to make them go away.  They sprayed poison, pulled until the roots gave way. They felt only like their garden was complete when every tendril was extirpated.  This was how she felt from birth.

...because wherever else the future leads, it leads ultimately to death, the end that is present in my beginning and in yours.

Because who can describe the look that triggers the memory of loved ones? Who can anticipate the frown, the smile, or the misplaced lock of hair that sends a swift, undeniable signal from the past? Who can ever estimate the power of association, which is always strongest in moments of love and in memories of death?