Best 129 quotes in «fear of death quotes» category

If people live in constant fear of death, and if breaking the law is punished by death, then who would dare?

I have no fear of death. More important, I don't fear life.

I have no fear of death. We all die. I consider my remaining days to be like money in the bank. When it is all gone, I will be repossessed.

I'm not suggesting that you have to overcome your fear of death. But we have to be willing to recognize at any moment, death could come.

I have absolutely no fear of death. Why would I? There's nothing to fear-only joy to experience.

I have never been able to be so allured by the prospect of advantages or so terrified by misfortunes, swayed by honours or fettered by affection, nay not even so smitten by the fear of death, as to enter upon marriage.

It is not the fear of death which creates the desire for immortality, but the desire for immortality which causes the fear of death.

Less base the fear of death than fear of life.

I love the name of honor, more than I fear death.

I will not yield to any man contrary to what is right, for fear of death, even if I should die at once for not yielding.

Let thy hope of heaven master thy fear of death.

Live in Christ, die in Christ, and the flesh need not fear death.

Laughter allows us to get past the fear of death.

No need to fear death. There will be a tunnel and light.

I wish to be a martyr, and I don't fear death.

Our culture's zeal for longevity reveals our incredible collective fear of death.This is quotes copyright © By Pumpkin Limited

My only fear of death is reincarnation

Our piety must be weak and imperfect if it do not conquer our fear of death.

The desire to survive and the fear of death are artistic sentiments

Love, I thought, is stronger than death or the fear of death. Only by it, by love, life holds together and advances.

The best way to live above all fear of death is to die every morning before you leave your bedroom.

The Fear of Death often proves Mortal.

The more you live in the present moment, the more the fear of death disappears.

The wise man neither rejects life nor fears death... just as he does not necessarily choose the largest amount of food, but, rather, the pleasantest food, so he prefers not the longest time, but the most pleasant.

The fear of death which is imprinted in men is at the same time a great expedient Heaven employs to hinder them from many misdeeds: many things are left undone for fear of imperiling one's life or health.

The day, man will find that he never really dies; that his Soul persists beyond death; he will have no more fear of death.

To fear death, my friends, is only to think ourselves wise without really being wise, for it is to think that we know what we do not know.

There is nothing to fear but fear itself. And spiders. ~Bumper sticker~

Uncommon extension of the fear of death.

Why should I fear death? If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?

Topography is one of my chief themes in my poetry, about the country, the suburbs and the seaside. Then there comes love... and increasingly; the fear of death.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage "People living deeply have no fear of death.

What greater gift is there than to demonstrate you need not fear death?

Whether you like it or not, you're forced to come to the realisation that death is out there. But I don't fear death, I'm a fatalist. I believe when it's your time, that's it. It's the hand you're dealt.

—and I say you still haven't answered my question, Father Bleu." "Haven't I, dear lady? I thought I stated that death is merely the beginning of—" "No, no, no!" Her voice was as high as a harpy's. "Don't go all gooey and metaphysical. I mean to ask, what is death the act, the situation, the moment?" She watched him foxily. The priest in turn struggled to remain polite. "Madame, I'm not positive I follow." "Let me say it another way. Most people are afraid of dying, yes?" "I disagree. Not those who find mystical union with the body of Christ in—" "Oh, come off it!" Madame Kagle shrilled. "People are frightened of it, Father Bleu. Frightened and screaming their fear silently every hour of every day they live. Now I put it to you. Of what are they afraid? Are they afraid of the end of consciousness? The ultimate blackout, so to speak? Or are they afraid of another aspect of death? The one which they can't begin to foresee or understand?" "What aspect is that, Madame Kagle?" "The pain." She glared. "The pain, Father. Possibly sudden. Possibly horrible. Waiting, always waiting somewhere ahead, at an unguessable junction of time and place. Like that bootboy tonight. How it must have hurt. One blinding instant when his head hit, eh? I suggest, Father Bleu, that is what we're afraid of, that is the wholly unknowable part of dying—the screaming, hurting how, of which the when is only a lesser part. The how is the part we never know. Unless we experience it." She slurped champagne in the silence. She eyed him defiantly. "Well, Father? What have you got to say?" Discreetly Father Bleu coughed into his closed fist. "Theologically, Madame, I find the attempt to separate the mystical act of dying into neat little compartments rather a matter of hairsplitting. And furthermore—" "If that's how you feel," she interrupted, "you're just not thinking it out." "My good woman!" said Father Bleu gently. "Pay attention to me!" Madame Wanda Kagle glared furiously. "I say you pay attention! Because you have never stopped to think about it, have you? If death resembles going to sleep, why, that's an idea your mind can get hold of, isn't it? You may be afraid of it, yes. Afraid of the end of everything. But at least you can get hold of some notion of something of what it's like. Sleep. But can you get hold of anything of what it must feel like to experience the most agonizing of deaths? Your head popping open like that bootboy's tonight, say? A thousand worms of pain inside every part of you for a second long as eternity? Can you grasp that? No, you can't, Father Bleu. And that's what death is at it's worst—the unknown, the possibly harrowing pain ahead." She clamped her lips together smugly. She held out her champagne glass for a refill. A woman in furs clapped a hand over her fashionably green lips and rushed from the group. Though puzzled, Joy was still all eyes and ears. "Even your blessed St. Paul bears me out, Father." The priest glanced up, startled. "What?" "The first letter to the Corinthians, if I remember. The grave has a victory, all right. But it's death that has the sting." In the pause the furnace door behind her eyes opened wide, and hell shone out. "I know what I'm talking about, Father. I've been there." Slowly she closed her fingers, crushing the champagne glass in her hand. Weeping, blood drooling from her palm down her frail veined arms, she had to be carried out. The party broke up at once.

An old Celtic proverb boldly places death right at the center of life. ‘Death is the middle of a long life,’ they used to say. Ancient people did things like that; they put death at the center instead of casting it out of sight and leaving such an important subject until the last possible moment. Of course, they lived close to nature and couldn’t help but see how the forest grew from fallen trees and how death seemed to replenish life from fallen members. Only the unwise and the overly fearful think that death is the blind enemy of life.

As she opened it, Latra jumped out from the side, ripping at Aijayy’s face, blood pouring out, some running into her mouth. Her death became a certainty in her mind, and she abandoned herself to it, dropping to the ground, everything going fuzzy. Latra jumped at her like an animal possessed, high in the air, falling. Benshi Phased through the ceiling, grabbing the chandelier on his way down and landing on top of Latra. The sorceress rose up, holding Benshi by the throat. He looked surprisingly calm.

Being Tranquil didn't sound so bad to him. He'd been terrified of being swallowed up by the darkness for so long it seemed like it would be a relief to get it over with. You were only scared of becoming nothing until you were nothing. Just like dying

Believing in the possibility of resurrection and eternal life, Christians seek ‘redemption’ through moral behaviour. But moral behaviour does not, in itself, assuage fear of death, on the contrary, when people come to view themselves as marred by Sin, for instance because they are taught to believe that their most intimate feelings are sinful, this may increase significantly their anxiety about dying.

But, sir, isn't death a dreadful thing?" asked Malcolm. "That depends on whether a man regards it as his fate or as the will of a perfect God. Its obscurity is its dread. But if God be light, then death itself must be full of splendor--a splendor probably too keen for our eyes to receive." "But there's the dying itself; isn't that fearsome? It's that I would be afraid of." "I don't see why it should be. It's the lack of a God that makes it dreadful, and you would be greatly to blame for that, Malcolm, if you hadn't found your God by the time you had to die.

But you decide how you live your life in the meantime. You can hide fear. Or you can live life. - V

Each man lives in his own universe and when he dies the world is over

Eventually, 'Dad is dead' turned into 'I will die', which was my introduction to the fear. The fear of gone. The fear of nothing at all, of what happens to me, of I am the main character and the story will crumble if I'm not there to see it through.

Everyone on earth is afraid of losing his/her life, and only a few are afraid of losing their time.

You fear them because you fear death, and rightly: for death is terrible and must be feared,' the mage said...'And life is also a terrible thing,' Ged said, 'and must be feared and praised.

Can we quantify failure in degrees and say, ‘on a 10 point scale this failure causes this much pain?’ Extremely difficult.

Dave learned that Death is the opposite of peace: it’s struggle, it’s ugly, it’s horrific, it’s dirty. And ultimately, Death is emptiness.

Dear Supreme Altruist- I hope you are in a receptive mood. Thanks very much for placing wihin me the bomb that never stops exploding. Though the benefits have been intangible and in fact I feel that this terrifying mechanism has generally made my life intolerable, I shall never ask you to reverse the situation. I feel I have done everything that may be reasonably expected of me in the way of self-abnegation. However, I now find to my dismay that my lifelong fear of death is beginning to desert me. I believe that this may mean that the bomb's continual explosions may be causing the growth of new slabs of man-bark instead of blasting the loathesome stuff away as it has been doing. I therefore humbly request that the explosive power of the bomb be increased. Please do not make me weaker; make the bomb stronger. Amen.

Death undoes us less, sometimes, than the hope that it will never come.

Death is most terrifying to those who have yet to live.