Best 651 quotes in «dead quotes» category

The best investment to make an impact on others, because even when you're dead money alone will not bury you.

The best to do with a death was to move on from it.

The boxes that are supposed to help us understand one another ultimately wedge us further apart. Even worse is that we rage against the artificial divisions the boxes create, claim that we’re more complex and complicated than how we’re defined by others, and then turn around and stuff the next person we meet into one and tape the lid shut. And then, as if the indignity of life isn’t enough, when a person dies, we cram what’s left of them into one final box for eternity.

The business of the dead belongs to the living.

The cold Duke was afraid of Now, for Now has warmth and urgency, and Then is dead and buried.

The continuation of man’s life is more attributable to his fear of death than it is to his desire to live. As a matter of fact, in countless cases, it is attributable to only the former.

The dark sky. A hundred million stars. More stars than I’ve ever seen before. My eyes let me see farther, but they don’t show me the one thing I want to see. I would trade all the stars in the universe if I could just have him back again. Wind whistles through the trees nearby. Birdsong weaves in and out of the sound. The hybrids emerge from the communication building, heads tilted to the sky. And then we see the end. Godspeed’s engine was nuclear; who knows what fueled the biological weapons. But they explode together. In space, they don’t make the familiar mushroom cloud. They don’t make the boom! of an exploding bomb. There is, against the dark sky, a brief flash of light. It is filled with colors, like a nebula or the aurora borealis, bursting like a popped bubble. Nothing else—no sound of an explosion, no tremors in the earth, no smell of smoke. Not here, on the surface of the planet. Nothing else to signify Elder’s death. Just light. And then it’s gone. And then he’s gone.

The day you stop learning is the day you begin to die. Lack of knowledge is the fundamental principle for killing "alive and kicking" dreams.

The Dead are a larger army than any ever assembled, and they follow no leader, fear no threat, and accept no bribe or compromise. The Dead are the silent majority, and should they ever decide to say something, it will be the new law of the land.

The dead do not hurt you; only the living do.

The dead” we say   as if speaking of “the people” who gave up on making history simply to get through Something dense and null   groan without echo   underground and owl-voiced I cry Who are these dead people these lovers who if ever did listen no longer answer : We :

The dead bury the dead. I looked for the body, but I did not find it alive.

The dead know something we don’t, although they keep it to themselves.

The dead neither see nor ear.

The dead shouldn’t cry, not even the lesser dead.

The dead speak to those who listen. Be quieter than even them.

The dead are often known to eat 27 and 53

The dead can be even more frustrating to deal with than are many of the living, which is astonishing when you consider it's the living who run the Department of Motor Vehicles.

The dead cannot preach to the living, and the living cannot preach to the dead.

The dead could only speak through the mouths of those left behind, and through the signs they left scattered behind them.

The dead don't stay dead in this town! Haunted Richmond II-Pamela K. Kinney

The dead must heed them.

The dead pull the living down.

The death of loved ones often awakens the death inside of us.

The dead are practical.

The dead can't hurt you, they're dead. Living things can hurt you, living people can hurt you but the dead can't.

the dead live in our memories

The dead never truly die. They simply change form.

The dead no longer existed. Except in story. Some stories were modest in scale, existing in a single family or a small community of believers who whispered among themselves so their loved ones would not be forgotten. Others were so powerful they would transform the very fabric of the world.

The dead sing us songs I’m learning to answer.

The dead will not die completely till the day they are remembered by no one!

The dead, Your Honor, do not agonize over their crimes and do not long to be happy, as you know.

The dead appear to us in dreams because that's the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star...

The dead are emotionless.

The dead are immune from our prison of Time. The distance between the living and dead may be vast, but the space of Time the dead experience when they are reunited with their loved ones is only paper-thin.

The dead weren’t scary. It was the living you had to watch out for.

The dead are jealous, jealous, jealous and they will do anything to keep you from the living, the lucky living. They will argue with you, and distract you, and if that doesn't work, they will even let you hug them, and dance for you, and kiss you, and laugh, anything to keep you. The dead are selfish. Jealous. Lonely. Desperate. Hungry. ("The Chambered Fruit")

The deep breathe you just took to show that your problems are bigger than you, is the final breathe someone had taken right now in his life! As long as your breathe is not the final one, you still have a hope!

The dead do not need aspirin or sorrow, I suppose. but they might need rain. not shoes but a place to walk. not cigarettes, they tell us, but a place to burn. or we're told: space and a place to fly might be the same. the dead don't need me. nor do the living. but the dead might need each other. in fact, the dead might need everything we need and we need so much if we only knew what it was. it is probably everything and we will all probably die trying to get it or die because we don't get it. I hope you will understand when I am dead I got as much as possible.

The faithful clamoured to be buried alongside the martyrs, as close as possible to the venerable remains, a custom which, in anthropological terms, recalls Neolithic beliefs that certain human remains possessed supernatural properties. It was believed that canonized saints did not rot, like lesser mortals, but that their corpses were miraculously preserved and emanated an odour of sanctity, a sweet, floral smell, for years after death. In forensic terms, such preservation is likely to be a result of natural mummification in hot, dry conditions.

The difference between the one who remembers Allah and the one who doesn’t is like the living and the dead.

The exhilaration of battle was agreeable to him, but the sight of the dead, with their clay faces, blank eyes, and stiff bodies, which, when not unnaturally shrunken, were unnaturally swollen, had always intolerably affected him. He felt toward them a kind of reasonless antipathy which was something more than the physical and spiritual repugnance common to us all. Doubtless this feeling was due to his unusually acute sensibilities - his keen sense of the beautiful, which these hideous things outraged. Whatever may have been the cause, he could not look upon a dead body without a loathing which had in it an element of reselltment. What others have respected as the dignity of death had to him no existence - was altogether unthinkable. Death was a thing to be hated. It was not picturesque, it had no tender and solemn side - a dismal thing, hideous in all its manifestations and suggestions. Lieutenant Byring was a braver man than anybody knew, for nobody knew his horror of that which he was ever ready to encounter. ("A Tough Tussle")

The fact that you have just buried your parent or parents and/or sibling or siblings does not make you less likely to die today.

The harbour of influence is richer in the cemeteries where people are buried with their music on their tongues unsung. Don't leave your potentials untouched!

The hunter does not seek dead game.

The guy snarled out a string of profanity describing his night with Conn's mother. "Sounds about right," Conn said, but Matt didn't miss the glint in Conn's eye. "She's been dead for twenty years, but dead's probably the only way you get laid.

The inner fight never does any dead. (Le combat intérieur - Ne fait jamais de mort)

The guns weren't of Mirajin make. Amonpourian. Stupid-looking things. Ornate and carved, made by hand instead of machine, and charged at twice what they were worth because someone had gone to the trouble of making them pretty. It didn't matter how pretty something was, it'd kill you just as dead. That, I'd learned from Shazad.

The kitchen car was dead, and Morrigan was to blame. She didn't know how it had happened, or when. She thought perhaps he'd eaten something poisonous overnight. There were no injuries to suggest a fox or dog attack. Apart from a bit of dried blood at the corner of his mouth, he looked like he was sleeping, but he was cold and stiff.

The kind of death you should mourn over is the one that happen when you abort your potentials prematurely! Life without purpose is a tragedy!