Best 651 quotes in «dead quotes» category

If you think that one day you gonna lose the all data, you are kind of right from point of view of dead, yeah you will lose it in your mind. Your mind doesn't come in heaven or hell, does it? From other point of view, from cyber point of view again yeah, you are right... one day everything dies.

If you want a fried fish to fly and enter your mouth, you must keep waiting till the unending time ends. Dead fish doesn't fly. If you want to eat it, your own hands must carry it.

I had an overwhelming sense of the lonliness of this city - a trillion souls in their bedrooms, high in the cliffs of windows. I thought of what was underneath it all - I thought of the electricty cables, steam, water, fire, subway trains and lava in the city's guts, the subterranean rumbling of trains and earthquakes. I thought of the dead souls from the war, concreted over.

I have a swizzle stick shaped like a little monkey,” announced Rose. “Let’s help the dead man with his problem.

I have lost you, my brother And your death has ended The spring season Of my happiness, our house is buried with you And buried the laughter that you taught me. There are no thoughts of love nor of poems In my head Since you died.

I saw you dead.

I just want silence... nothing less... nothing more.

I knew then I was going to die in the street without ever seeing Holly again. All because I tried to help an old woman, proving for all eternity that no good deed goes unpunished.

I know now, what is the worst thing about broken heart. I am not dead.

I looked; and the unseen figure, which still grasped me by the wrist, bad caused to be thrown open the graves of all mankind; and from each issued the faint phosphoric radiance of decay; so that I could see the innermost recesses, and there view the shrouded bodies in their dead and solemn slumber with the worm. But alas! the real sleepers were fewer, by many millions, than those who slumbered not at all; and there was a feebly struggling; and there was a general and sad unrest; and from out of the depths of the countless pits there came a melancholy rustling from the garments of the buried.

I may not be perfect for you or the world but guess what I'm not perfect for myself either. I'm dead to you and the world just as I'm dead to myself.-p.b

I'm dead, but I can't stop living.

I'm chasing a decade old ghost. Searching beneath the rafters of a cobweb-filled haven lined with old memories which my brain cannot accept are dead. The light of nostalgia is burning bright inside my heart. Ignoring the emptiness around me, and hoping for a resurrection of love.

I’m just happy to have experienced life; to have had a beautiful son and to have loved.

I’m not a bad person.

I’m nothing but a thought in the mind of God, I’m Satan’s slave; I open my eyes and flee, I’m mankind, I worship, and I kill, All in the name of Love, hate I’m the slaughtered lamb, I’m luzbel I’m the one paying for your sins, I’m your son; I am your mom and dad, I’m the one, who worships God, I’m a killer and a saint, I’m just a thought in the mind of God. I laugh and I suffer, I get killed, and I kill others, I’m nothing but a thought in the mind of God I’m compassion and rage, I love, I cheat, and I lie, I tell the truth, I’m dead, I’m alive, I’m in hell, the place people called paradise, I am just a thought in the mind of God

I’m sorry, but your friend is gone. Now, you need to get your shit together or we all gonna be gone, too.

I must be alive," Gawain said hoarsely. "Dead doesn't hurt this much.

In 1912, a man named Franz Reichelt jumped off the Eiffel Tower wearing a parachute suit he designed himself. He jumped to test his invention--he expected to fly--but instead he fell straight down, hitting the ground like a meteor and leaving a 5.9-inch-deep crater from the impact. Did he mean to kill himself? Doubtful. I think he was just cocky, and also stupid.

In a materialistic society, the dead body of a rich man’s dog is regarded as a corpse; that of a poor man, a carcass.

Incluso cuando morimos, solía decir Abuelita, seguimos siendo una parte de la gente que nos lleva consigo. Drew llevaba a Valerie. Era la única forma en que podía tenerla.

I needed nothing and was needed nowhere. I almost doubted I was alive.

I never imagined being undead would be so much work,” Jeff lamented. “Being a ‘vampire’ takes no work at all,” Timothy emphasized vampire. “It’s surviving that takes all the work.

-ingen Penge mere og kan ikke arbejde, blaut, Far, udsuget, Fan danse mig.

Not a day has gone by, he said. Poor Jos. Days had gone by for me. It wasn't that I had forgotten about him, I always knew that he was out there. It just stopped seeming to matter. I was already dead. I had already moved on into this afterlife. I was someplace that he could never follow, nor would I want him to. Poor Jos. All this time, and he has been the one trapped.

In short, you had that particular ability which I never had: the ability to be alive.

Instead, I opened my eyes to find the thing in front of my face, wafting dead horse breath across my chin and up my nose, its mouth like a gaping maw; its eyes, two giant wormholes, twisting and bending with some apparitional substance that could have been space and time if I’d known anything about physics.

Intellectual death is endemic in areas where people are unprepared to obtain new information for development. Learning is a way of staying alive.

In the end, this volume should be read a s a collection of love stories, Above all, they are tales of love, not the love with which so many stories end – the love of fidelity, kindness and fertility – but the other side of love, its cruelty, sterility and duplicity. In a way, the decadents did accept Nordau's idea of the artist as monster. But in nature, the glory and panacea of romanticism, they found nothing. Theirs is an aesthetic that disavows the natural and with it the body. The truly beautiful body is dead, because it is empty. Decadent work is always morbid, but its attraction to death is through art. What they refused was the condemnation of that monster. And yet despite the decadent celebration of artifice, these stories record art's failure in the struggle against natural horror. Nature fights back and wins, and decadent writing remains a remarkable account of that failure.

In the hierarchy of age the baby has the highest rank, then the child, then the adolescent, and only then the adult. As for the old, they are virtually at ground level, at the very bottom of this pyramid of values. And the dead? They are under the ground. Even lower than the old The old are still accorded human rights. The dead, however, lose all rights from the very first second of death. No law protects them any longer from slander, their privacy has ceased to be private; not even the letters written to them by their loved ones, not even the family album left to them by their mothers, nothing, nothing belongs to them any longer.

In the long run we are all dead. Economists set themselves too easy, too useless a task if in tempestuous seasons they can only tell us that when the storm is long past the ocean is flat again.

In this world, people always find a way of doing what they want

I often think about this, that is, I imagine to myself that here is Vera, dead, totally motionless, lying on the table, in a coffin... and I too, of course can no longer live. But for some reason this gives me pleasure, a terrible amount of pleasure to imagine so the one I love: earlier I imagined grandmother and then my fiance in this manner, even my favorite animals, Sparky our cat with the fiery bursts of red on his gray-black fur. ("Thirty-Three Abominations")

I owe more to the dead, with whom I will spend a much longer time, than I will ever owe to the living.

Isabelle! he called again. Let down your raven hair. Oh, my God, Clary muttered. There was something in that blood Raphael gave you, wasn't there? I'm going to kill him. He's already dead, Simon observed. He's undead. Obviously he can still die, you know, again. I'll re-kill him.

I see ghosts like you see a normal person. Looking regular, tangible as ever and even more alive than most of the people you’ll see walking around the streets.

I should have asked, I guess,” he says. “I shouldn’t have assumed.” “What?” He rotates around on his butt to face me. Me on the sofa, him on the floor, looking up. “That I was going with you.” “What? We weren’t even talking about that! And why would you want to go with me, Evan? Since you think he’s dead?” “I just don’t want you to be dead, Cassie.

I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.

Is it true, then, Mayor?" Grandmother Miss Lacy Thornton warbled from the end of the counter. "Is Jesse Tatum officially dead?" "Dead is such an unflattering term," he said, sliding onto his stool. "I prefer to think of Jesse as... passe." The Azalea Women gasped. "What's passe mean?" Tinks Williams asked the Colonel, his voice low. "Dead," the Colonel said, refilling Tink's iced tea.

I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn't even tell the difference.

I wondered if I might be dead, and I felt no sorrow, only worry over the afterlife, if it was going to be just like this, just as boring. If I'm dead, I thought, let this be the end. The silliness.

I wonder what it's like to be dead.

Live an exemplary life as a leader. When you are gone, you will still lead from the grave because your influence, impacts and inspirations will become and information for the living.

Lo, great and small say, 'I wish i were dead’ Little children say, “He should not have made me live!” Lo, children of nobles are dashed against wails, Infants are put out on high ground.

Lo importante es tener salud, el resto se arregla". Es la más pura verdad, Victoria, para todo, todo de verdad, en esta vida hay solución, menos para la muerte.

Losing some faculties is worse than losing your life.

Los muertos le daban mala espina o al menos eso decía ella, pero yo no comprendía que eso fuese posible. Los cadáveres están tranquilos y en silencio: totalmente quietos, totalmente inofensivos. Un cuerpo nunca se va a mover, no se reirá de ti y no te juzgará. Un muerto no te va a chillar, a pegar ni a abandonar.

Love is dead, and the only thing remained is a small slice of respect.

Love won't kill you. -Carla

Madoka: Won't anyone notice that Mami-san is dead? Homura: Mami Tomoe's only relatives are distant relations. It will be quite some time before anyone files a missing persons report. When one dies on that side of the wards, not even a body is left behind. She'll wind up forever a "missing person"... That is what happens to magical girls in the end. Madoka: ...That's too cruel! Mami-san has been fighting all alone for a long time for everyone's sake! For no one to even notice that she's gone... That's just too lonely a fate... Homura: It is just that kind of contract that gives us the power in the first place. It isn't for anyone else's sake. We fight on for the sake of our own prayer. So for no one to notice... for the world to forget us... That is just something we have to accept.