Best 9776 quotes in «death quotes» category

Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.

Two months ago my mother died. She made, as the expression goes, a good death.

Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.

Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I lay me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be: Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill.

Unjustly men hate death, which is the greatest defence against their many ills.

Unless a writer is extremely old when he dies, in which case he has probably become a neglected institution, his death must always seem untimely.

Unsubstantial Death is amorous.

Upon the great questions of origin, of destiny, of immortality, of . . . other worlds, every honest man must say, 'I do not know.' Upon these questions, this is the creed of intelligence.

Vain vision! when the changing world each day Sees some such lordly pleasance pass away; When the mere stripling knows my symbols all Worn tokes, heaven hypothetical, Nature indifferent, and the dreams of men Figments of longing which we must condemn. Yet keep these plants, O Man! a kinder time May yet be moved by them to better rhyme, Or moved, like me, to place his pleasure low, On the firm Earth, whence Men and Blossoms grow.

Various accounts of Empedocle's death are given in ancient sources. His enemies said that his desire to be thought a god led him to throw himself into the crater of Mount Etna so that he might vanish from the world completely and thus lead men to believe he had achieved apotheosis. Unfortunately the volcano defeated his design by throwing out one of the philosopher's sandals.

Végre nem butulok tovább (I've finally stopped getting dumber).

Virtue alone has majesty in death.

Walk with the dead For fear of death.

War is death's feast.

Wasting time is worse than death, because death separates you from this world whereas wasting time separates you from Allah

Water, earth, air, fire, and the other parts of this structure of mine are no more instruments of your life than instruments of your death. Why do you fear your last day? It contributes no more to your death than each of the others. The last step does not cause the fatigue, but reveals it. All days travel toward death, the last one reaches it.

We all do fade as a leaf.

We all have to die some day, if we live long enough.

[W]e all lie down in our bed of earth as sure to wake as ever we can be to shut our eyes.

We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.

We all of us waited for him to die. The family sent him a check every month, and hoped he'd get on with it quietly, without too much vulgar fuss.

We all owe life a death, an inevitable death which we can meet. But the unnecessary death that wastes life denies all consolation.

We all try to escape pain and death, while we seek what is pleasant.

We are afraid of the known and afraid of the unknown. That is our daily life and in that there is no hope, and therefore every form of philosophy, every form of theological concept, is merely an escape from the actual reality of what is. All outward forms of change brought about by wars, revolutions, reformations, laws and ideologies have failed completely to change the basic nature of man and therefore of society.

We are all compelled to take the same road; from the urn of death, shaken for all, sooner or later the lot must come forth. [Lat., Omnes eodem cogimur; omnium Versatur urna serius, ocius Sors exitura.]

We are born for a higher destiny than that of earth; there is a realm where the rainbow never fades, where the stars will be spread before us like islands that slumber on the ocean, and where the beings that pass before us like shadows will stay in our presence forever.

We are all bound thither; we are hastening to the same common goal. Black death calls all things under the sway of its laws. [Lat., Tendimus huc omnes; metam properamus ad unam. Omnia sub leges mors vocat atra suas.]

We are all dead men on leave.

We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon each other our follies - it is the first law of nature.

We are all of us resigned to death: it's life we aren't resigned to.

We are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways.

We are born to love, we live to love, and we will die to love still more.

We are born with two incurable diseases, life, from which we die, and hope, which says maybe death isn't the end.

We are bound to expire. Even metal which is sturdiest, rusts. Even oxygen, the breath of life, soon transpires.

We are ignorant of the Beyond because this ignorance is the condition of our own life. Just as ice cannot know fire except by melting and vanishing.

We are free only if we face the challenge of freedom, do the work of freedom, fight the fight of freedom and die the death for freedom.

We are not the worst moments of our lives. Sister Helen Prejean, author of Dead Man Walking.

We are, perhaps, uniquely among the earth's creatures, the worrying animal. We worry away our lives, fearing the future, discontent with the present, unable to take in the idea of dying, unable to sit still.

We are not victims of aging, sickness and death. These are part of scenery, not the seer, who is immune to any form of change. This seer is the spirit, the expression of eternal being.

We bloomed in Spring. Our bodies are the leaves of God. The apparent seasons of life and death our eyes can suffer; but our souls, dear, I will just say this forthright: they are God Himself, we will never perish until He does.

We beg one hour of death, that neither she With widow's tears may live to bury me, Nor weeping I, with wither'd arms, may bear My breathless Baucis to the sepulchre.

We are spirits. That bodies should be lent us while they afford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge or in doing good to our fellow-creatures, is a kind of benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for these purposes and afford us pain instead of pleasure, instead of an aid become an encumbrance and answer none of these intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we get rid of them. Death is that way.

We brought nothing into this world and it's certain we can carry nothing out.

Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin.

We died like aunts of pets or foreigners.

We cannot hope to die peacefully if our lives have been full of violence, or if our minds have mostly been agitated by emotions like anger, attachment, or fear. So if we wish to die well, we must learn how to live well: Hoping for a peaceful death, we must cultivate peace in our mind, and in our way of life.

We do not die because we have to die; we die because one day, and not so long ago, our consciousness was forced to deem it necessary.

We die, because we live.

WE DIE. You will never hear those words spoken in a television ad. Yet this central fact of human existence colors our world and how we perceive ourselves within it.

We do not lose our friends when they die, we only lose sight of them.