Best 741 quotes in «death and dying quotes» category

And a funeral, I found out, is like a wedding in reverse, with less time to plan.

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

And perhaps there is none, no morrow anymore, for one who has waited so long for it in vain. And perhaps he has come to that stage of his instant when to live is to wander the last of the living in the depths of an instant without bounds, where the light never changes and the wrecks all look alike. Bluer scarcely than white of egg the eyes stare into the space before them, namely the fullness of the great deep and unchanging calm. But at long intervals they close, with the gentle suddenness of flesh that tightens, often without anger, and closes on itself.

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 where does that minute go, that minute that separates life from death? I want those sixty seconds back.

And what after all, is death?? 'Tis but a cessation from mortal life; 'tis but the finishing of an appointed course; the refreshing inn after a fatiguing journey; the end of a life of cares and troubles; and, if happy, the beginning of a life of immortal happiness.

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.

Anything man can make, man can destroy.

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.

A person's destiny often ends before his death.

And do you know the story about Haydn’s head? They cut it away from the still-warm cadaver so some insane scientist could take apart the brain and pinpoint the location of musical genius. And the Einstein Story? He’d carefully written his will with instructions to cremate him. They followed his orders, but his disciple, ever loyal and devoted, refused to live without the master’s gaze on him. Before the cremation, he took the eyes of the cadaver and put them in a bottle of alcohol to keep them watching him until the moment he should die himself. That’s why I said that the crematory fire is the only way our bodies can escape them. It’s the only absolute death. And I don’t want any other. Jean-Marc, I want an absolute death.

And then the sword came down like a flash of lightning, and then her head was off her body and the long rivalry between me and the other Boleyn girl was over.

...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...

Are you scared?” “Of what?” “Dying.” Jemma was nothing, if she was not blunt. “I’m not expecting to die, Jemma. I’m expecting to have treatment, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, whatever it takes, but I’m expecting to come through this.

As a child of the Seventies, I grew up thinking that death could be as light as a feather or as heavy as a mountain. Lolo’s death sailed over the rooftop of the world.

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.

As for dying we can only assay that once; we are all apprentices when it comes to that

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.

As human beings, we have a terminal disease called mortality. The current death rate is 100 percent. Unless Christ returns soon, we’re all going to die. We don’t like to think about death; yet, worldwide, 3 people die every second, 180 every minute, and nearly 11,000 every hour. If the Bible is right about what happens to us after death, it means that more than 250,000 people every day go either to Heaven or Hell. David said, “Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath” (Psalm 39:4-5). Picture a single breath escaping your mouth on a cold day and dissipating into the air. Such is the brevity of life here. The wise will consider what awaits us on the other side of this life that so quickly ends.

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

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.

At the end of life, nobody knows where the spirit goes.

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.

Before we're born we've all of us been dead for millions of years...but we're always afraid of going back...

blue-gold sky, fresh cloud, emerald-black mountain, trees on rocky ledges, on the summit, the tiny pin of a telephone tower-all brilliantly clear, in shadow and out. and on and through everything everywhere the sun shines without reservation (p. 97)

But he drank a lot. When love dies, he told me, there are no survivors.

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 it's hard to explain, Mitch. Now that I'm suffering, I feel closer to people who suffer than I ever did before. The other night, on TV, I saw people in Bosnia running across the street, getting fired upon, killed, innocent victims... and I just started to cry. I feel their anguish as if it were my own. I don't know any of these people. But--how can I put this?--I'm almost... drawn to them.

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 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 you'll see, you can feel time on the wind it whips up as it passes. We don't worry about time or the wind. Nothing can touch us any more. As long as people remember us, we are here. Anyway, it's the wind that tells us, lets us know about the thigs we've left behind.

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.

- C'est bizarre que nous, qui sommes sur une île, nous ne mettions pas nos morts sur des barques, la nuit, comme ça la mer les emporterait au loin et nous resterions à regarder les feux qui disparaissent à l'horizon de la vie. - Les cimetières existent parce que savoir que le mort est dans un endroit précis est une consolation. - D'accord, mais quel autre endroit pourrait être plus précis que le cœur ?

Certainty. Life's last and kindest gift.

Celui qui a le courage de s'élever embrasse d'un seul coup d'oeil toute sa vie. Et aussi toute sa mort.

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.

Be happy but when sad times come, know that God allow these time for self-realisation.

Bernice had told her once that you could feel some patient through the walls like heat through an oven door, that the ones with troubled spirits radiated that trouble out into the nearby air.

Between the dark, heavily laden treetops of the spreading chestnut trees could be seen the dark blue of the sky, full of stars, all solemn and golden, which extended their radiance unconcernedly into the distance. That was the nature of the stars. and the trees bore their buds and blossoms and scars for everyone to see, and whether it signified pleasure or pain, they accepted the strong will to live. flies that lived only for a day swarmed toward their death. every life had its radiance and beauty. i had insight into it all for a moment, understood it and found it good, and also found my life and sorrows good.

Big Angel could not reconcile himself to this dirty deal they had all been dealt. Death. What a ridiculous practical joke. Every old person gets the punch line that the kids are too blind to see. All the striving, lusting, dreaming, suffering, working, hoping, yearning, mourning, suddenly revealed itself to be an accelerating countdown to nightfall. ....This is the prize: to realize, at the end, that every minute was worth fighting for with every ounce of blood and fire.