Best 741 quotes in «death and dying quotes» category

We must conquer life by living it to the full, and then we can go to meet death with a certain prestige.

A carpenter is hired- a roof repaired, a porch built. Everything that can be fixed. June, July, August. Everyday we hear their laughter. I think of the painting by van Gogh, the man in the chair. Everything wrong, and nowhere to go. His hands over his eyes.

Achala, worrying and scheming about your next life, before you have even completed this one, is not a good practice." Rinpoche

After all, Malthus was wrong. Marx was wrong. Democracy did not die during the Great Depression as the Communists predicted. And Khrushchev did not 'bury' us. We buried him. Neville Chute's On the Beach proved as fanciful as Dr. Strangelove and Seven Days in May. Paul Ehrlich's Population Bomb never exploded. It fizzled. The Clash of 79 produced Ronald Reagan and an era of good feelings. The Club of Rome notwithstanding, we did not run out of oil. The world did not end at the close of the second millennium, as some prophesied and others hoped. Who predicted the disappearance of the Soviet Empire? Is it not possible that today's most populous nations -China, India, and Indonesia- could break into pieces as well? Why do predictions of the Death of the West not belong on the same shelf as the predictions of 'nuclear winter' and 'global warming'? Answer: the Death of the West is not a prediction of what is going to happen, it is a depiction of what is happening now. First World nations are dying.

After you die, a rare friend or family member may carry your memory throughout life. Most will forget you. As if you were never here.

A gente só briga com a morte quando não fez nada na vida.

Ah yes, a great victory, this 'sport'. I am sure El Toro appreciates the applause Jumping in the Puddles of Life

All the same I fear what happens when we expand the terrain of medical practice to include actively assisting people with speeding their death. I am less worried about the abuse of these powers than I am about dependence on them.

All things end. They rarely end as we would like them to and often do so before we are ready. We transition in a way that gives our loss honor; we grieve with a love and true appreciation for what we have no longer. It was clear that my mom was ready to go; it was her time. My love of her and my desperation to keep her in my life were of no consequence to that fact, any more than my relentless attempts to improve The Lyon's Den kept it from cancellation. Both personally and professionally I was swamped with the message: Your plan pales compared to the larger one.

A man dies, girl, he isn't any more, least not down here. Respect and all that crap doesn't deserve the dead; it just makes the living feel better. The dead one, maybe he is somewhere else-- maybe all he needs to be somewhere else is to believe he will be somewhere else. I won't deny a man his belief, and I don't know any more'n you about souls and all that stuff. But I know this: Speaking good or bad about something that isn't anymore is a bloody waste of time. I can't feature Saint Peter sitting up there saying: 'Hey, Adam, there's folks bad-mouthing you down there. What'd you do to merit that?

Amid all that blood of the dying sun, the verde was still alive.

An African who loses the ability to die with dignity is a lost man.

And a ride in a hearse tells us we’re all close to that final cruise . . . when the body dies and we move on. It’s just the body, man. It’s just the body. The soul’s already gone. So don’t be afraid of a dead body absent a soul. It’s empty, man. No resident. What you need to worry about is a living body that’s lost its soul. Now that is scary, man.” - Funk N. Wagnalls, owner of the Grim Reapers auto lot, a character in Professor Brown Shoes Teaches the Blues.

And our love goes beyond flesh; it transcends Death's reminder. In the Underworld Library, two books sharing a binder

And the camel driver had said, to die tomorrow was no worse than dying on any other day. Every day was there to be lived or to mark one's departure from this world.

And then I feel guilty, because I know all these offers are made in vain. I know I cannot get my mother back healthy for a day. ... My mom is sick, sick and dying, and no bargaining will change that. And it's in all the books, bargaining, which makes me embarrassed. Look at me grieving my textbook grief. - 150

...and when we die we die alone I cry, I cry alone Like a piece of stone I am thrown into the wavy ocean of life to atone...to atone Only to atone...

A person gets built and stands for a few years and then nature’s demolition team comes in.

Apareció entonces un hombre delgado de chaleco pulido tocando el violín en la esquina. Debo explicar que a este hombre lo vi una vez al anochecer cuando yo era niño en Recife y el sonido extenuado y agudo subrayaba con una línea dorada el misterio de la calle oscura. Junto al hombre escuálido había una latita de zinc donde hacían un ruido seco las monedas de los que oían con gratitud porque él les sollozaba la vida. Sólo ahora entiendo y sólo ahora brotó en mí el sentido secreto: el violín es un aviso. Sé que cuando yo muera voy a oír el violín del hombre y pediré música, música, música.

Are you afraid to die? 'Cause it scares the hell outta me, And the end is all I can see, And it scares the hell outta me, That the end is all I can see.

As a newborn baby each of us was helpless and, without the care and kindness we received then, we would not have survived. Because the dying are also unable to help themselves, we should relieve them of discomfort and anxiety, and assist them, as far as we can, to die with composure.

A shade flickered to my left, an eerie shadow balanced even more precariously on the railing than I. Her plimsolls struggled to grip the same rail my fingers now held. I knew her face, just as I knew her death; I’d watched it often enough, those times I’d been unable to avoid crossing here. Nerys was always here, tied to the moment of her death, an echo, forever hurtling down into those waters, only to reappear an instant later, once more wavering on the rails.

As I come through the garden, Suddenly all birds seem to cease their singing: The tight-curled buds like birds on the branches swinging Silently shrink and harden On the naked trees that were once green fountains springing. And you are not there, not there, not there, Your laughing face and your windblown hair Leave not even a ghost in the garden.

A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty. But one no longer has the right to say so aloud.

As I witness the dead of beloved ones, it makes be become more conscious that life indeed has an end.

As Ossie Jones crept out of his body and into the mist, his heart murmured till it was silent.

As young one we learned life is a opportunity and when we grow older we learned something more precious death is a gift

A young ticket should never be envied, they queue for the bus the same as us

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.

Biology includes the study of the human death which began when you took your first breath

But dying people don't need to be reminded that they're dying; I feel they need to be reminded that they're still very much alive.

But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all 'We died at such a place;' some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it; whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection. [Henry V, Act IV Scene I]

But never has the Call been so clear As now, when death’s cool hand Eases my spirit from my fevered body-- And I answer the Call of the Master— The Call to new Heights.

But the guilt of outliving those you love is justly to be borne, she thought. Outliving is something we do to them. The fantasies of dying could be no stranger than the fantasies of living. Surviving is perhaps the strangest fantasy of them all.

But why was the room suddenly becoming so dark? It was the middle of the afternoon. With a supreme effort Giuseppe Corte, who felt himself paralyzed with a strange lethargy, looked at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. It was 3:30. He turned his head in the other direction and saw that the shutters, in obedience to some mysterious command, were closing slowly, blocking the passage of light.

But who thinks of death in the middle of life?" -Mike Rogers Endless Night by Agatha Christie

By not talking about death with our loved ones, not being clear through advanced directives, DNR (do not resuscitate) orders, and funeral plans, we are directly contributing to this future ... and a rather bleak present, at that. Rather than engage in larger societal discussions about dignified ways for the terminally ill to end their lives, we accept intolerable cases like that of Angelita, a widow in Oakland who covered her head with a plastic bag because the arthritic pain of her gnarled joints was too much to bear. Or that of Victor in Los Angeles, who hung himself from the rafters of his apartment after his third unsuccessful round of chemotherapy, leaving his son to discover his body. Or the countless bodies with decubitus ulcers, more painful for me to care for them even babies or suicides. When these bodies come into the funeral home, I can only offer my sympathy to their living relatives, and promise to work to ensure that more people are not robbed of a dignified death by a culture of silence.

Cancer is never a lethal disease If your strength of mind wants it to freeze Death will arrive, but it loves to wait When living in hope is never too late

Caterpillar dun' become butterfly-caterpillar die so butterfly can be. A new thing. We all must let ourselves die to be what we will be. But we cling to what we know.

Ce n'était pas moi qu'ils regardaient. Pas moi qu'ils voyaient. J'étais deux hommes morts. J'étais une ferme en feu. J'étais le couteau. J'étais le sang.

Certainty. Life's last and kindest gift.

Character isn't something you talk about; it's something you show through your actions-through your every day habits.

character isn’t something you talk about; it’s something you show through your actions—through your every day habits.

Children love to fight and rarely think about death. They are the perfect soldiers.

Christopher was wearing a suit and adorned make-up. As long as I had known him, he never wore a suit or make-up. The look of him defenseless to his appearance saddened me.

Concha would cry when she found out I was dead, she should have no taste for life for months afterward. But I was still the one who was going to die. I thought of her soft, beautiful eyes. when she looked at me something passed her to me. But I knew it was over: if she looked at me now the look would stay in her eyes, it wouldn't reach me. I was alone

Could it be that heaven is just a creation of our insane belief that we are some how.. so fucking special. When the truth is we’re just equal to every other creation that lives, breathes and ultimately dies.

Curley's wife lay with a half-covering of yellow hay. And the meanness and the plannings and the discontent and the ache for attention were all gone from her face. She was pretty and simple, and her face was sweet and young. Now her rouged cheeks and reddened lips made her seem alive and sleeping very lightly. The curls, tiny little sausages, were spread on the hay behind her head and her lips were parted

Darkness is but a door, scary not because it opens, but out of fear that it will never close

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.