Death Quotes - Page 18

The desire to know the future gnaws at our bones. That is where it started, and might have ended, years ago.I had cast the stones, seeing their faces flicker and fall: Death, Love, Murder, Treachery, Hope. We are a treacherous people - half of our stones show betrayal and violence and death from those close, death from those far away. It is not so with other peoples. I have seen other sets that show only natural disasters: death from sickness, from age, the pain of a broken heart, loss in childbirth. And those stones are more than half full with pleasure and joy and plain, solid warnings like "You reap what you sow" and "Victory is not the same as satisfaction."Of course, we live in a land taken by force, by battle and murder and invasion. It is not so surprising that our stones reflect our history.

You gain inner peace when you become comfortable with the reality of death.

But thought’s the slave of life, and life time’s fool;And time, that takes survey of all the world,Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,But that the earthy and cold hand of deathLies on my tongue

RIP, to those that are no longer here in Body, for they give our minds a lesson in eternity...

You can still be cool when you’re dead. In fact, it’s much easier, because you aren’t getting old and fat and losing your hair.

I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more...

I don’t know anything different about death than I ever have, but I feel differently. I inhabit this difference in feeling- or does it live in me?- at the same time as I’m sorrowing. The possibility of consolation, of joy even, does not dispel the sorrow. Sorrow is the cathedral, the immense architecture; in its interior there’s room for almost everything; for desire, for flashes of happiness, for making plans for the future…

The one who re-creates from that which has died is always a double-sided archetype. The Creation Mother is always also the Death Mother and vice versa. Because of this dual nature, or double-tasking, the great work before us is to learn to understand what around and about us and what within us must live, and what must die.

Eating, drinking, dying - three primary manifestations of the universal and impersonal life. Animals live that impersonal and universal life without knowing its nature. Ordinary people know its nature but don't live it and, if they think seriously about it, refuse to accept it. An enlightened person knows it, lives it, and accepts it completely. He eats, he drinks, and in due course he dies - but he eats with a difference, drinks with a difference, dies with a difference.

It seemed to me that life was a giant ice skating rink, and I was the only one who didn’t have skates. Most people fear death. I don’t. I’m only afraid of not living. I don’t want to be the one behind the ice rink fence, watching other people having fun.

Until your our last breath, lots of surprises waiting for you each day, and at those points you can't do anything, just wait, watch and react according to the situation like helpless kid.After the last breath also, you don't know, even more surprises are there for you like heaven or hell.. Hahaha, it's the true meaning of life....

If we knew a person was going to die, we’d hold harder to the memories.

Even in dying, a Thennanin ship was reputed to be not worth putting out of its misery. In battle they were slow, unmaneuverable—and as hard to disable permanently as a cockroach.

According to accepted newspaper clichés, we all go down fighting. The other day I even read that an 18-month-old baby had died after a long battle with cancer. That has become the mandatory phrase for all who expire, disease-ridden. They battled valiantly; they lost. When I finally depart I hope somebody will write, instead, that I died after a long battle with life.

You are alone. But you seems not afraid- though you weary with your groaning; wandering far off in the wilderness and your eyes, consumed because of your grief; waxed old while you're still young.

If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?

People were excited by violence. What, after all, was the sexual act but a voluntarily endured assault, a momentary death?

She was my friend. Briefly, she was my lover. She was braver than I ever would have been in the moment of death. And I bet she was a hell of a shooting star.

As concerning the things whereof thou asked me, I will tell thee; for the evil is sown, but the destruction thereof is not yet come.

The day you were born the angels whispered, "She is going to love him until the day she dies.

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.

He may have been the wind, a caress, or a ghost, invading others' most precious convictions and still haunting mine like a ruthless despot. If he desired an empire, he achieved it with me, for I would carve out every skin in my body and hand it over as states to his greater nation.

My mother died of colon cancer one week after my eleventh birthday, and that fact has shaped my life. All that I have become and much that I have not become, I trace directly or indirectly to her death. ... In my professional and personal life, I have lived with the awareness of death's imminence for more than half a century, and labored in its constant presence for all but the first decade of that time.

If men only felt about death as they do about sleep, all terrors would cease. . . Men sleep contentedly, assured that they will wake the following morning. They should feel the same about their lives.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off forever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever.

When you're vested in fear, frightened of failure, yet in the surrender is where you find your success.

The dead person once had a life! This is a misery?

Either this wallpaper goes, or I do.

I'm sure we all have dreams of leaving at some time in our lives, but when we reach the bottom, most of us go running home.

I was going to die.tI was going to die, right now, right here, before I even had a chance to thoroughly apologize to anyone for what I’d done...before I had a chance to forgive myself.tI wasn’t even going to leave with a bang, one final act of dignity or at least the thought that I still belonged somewhere; I would die without even the simple acceptance that I’d done everything I could.tTears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I didn’t want to die crying.

A god of the ‘possible’ is no God.

İnsanlık öldü belki de hiç yaşamamıştı..!!Humanity was dead.Maybe never live too..!!

I forgive you," I said. I said what I had to. I would die by pieces to save myself from real death.

The Sodomy sea shall cast out fish, and make a noise in the night, which many have not known: but they shall all hear the voice thereof.

Do I wither up and disappear, or do I make the best of my time left?.. He would not wither. He would not be ashamed of dying.

It felt oily inside her head. There were strings of Xavier Stancliff caught inside of her, holding on and spiderwebbing out as he plotted and waited and thought: this is all the bitch deserves. Swallowing, Sandra pushed herself off the bed. It was late and the room was dark. She could see the bundled lump of Jack beneath his own covers. He’d left the television on and the light flickered down the tiny hall. Shadows danced and Sandra shivered as she left the room.In another life, she would have told Danny and Jack about the man. Danny would have whispered, “It’s alright,” and smoothed back her hair from her face and kissed her, lips dry and coarse on her forehead. Then he and Jack would’ve left while she was sleeping. They would’ve trampled the flowers and climbed into Xavier Stanliff’s window and when Sandra woke up there would have been one less man in the world.

I like to imagine that, on the day after my last, my library and I will crumble together, so that even when I am no more I'll still be with my books.

I wanted to thank Trent, but all I could do was give him a faint smile before I lost consciousness. Everything had worked flawlessly. I had planned the perfect murder - my own.

...nothing more excruciating when you are fighting for your life than to have healthy people round you, squabbling over futilities. Who do you love best, and who most do you want with you? Blithering idiots: it's life itself, can't you see? It's life I love best, and life I want with me. Go hang yourselves, all of you, you're only sapping my strength when most I need it. Leave me in peace and let me grapple.

Life is like a B-movie. You don't want to leave in the middle of it but you don't want to see it again.

If I had my life to live over again, I would form the habit of nightly composing myself to thoughts of death. I would practice, as it were, the remembrance of death. There is not another practice which so intensifies life. Death, when it approaches, ought not to take one by surprise. It should be part of the full expectancy of life.

Loss taught me about the frailty and transient nature of man. It taught me humility. It taught me about the urgency of service, of touching lives, of mentoring, of legacy. Of making hay while there is still sunshine and life.

As thou know not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou know not the works of what makes all.

Death, child. It’s beckoning us both, my brother and I.

as the shadows assumeshapesI fight the slowretreatnowmy once-promisedwindlingdwindlingnowlighting new cigarettespouring moredrinksit has been a beautifulfightstillis.

Life is the tragedy,' she said bitterly. 'You know how they categorize Shakespeare's plays, right? If it ends with a wedding, it's a comedy. And if it ends with a funeral, it's a tragedy. So we're all living tragedies, because we all end the same way, and it isn't with a goddamn wedding.

The past you lost is just like a dream. As you woke up new lifestarts. So, your actual birthday will be your death day.

The following twenty years would be the nadir of American Indian history, as the total Indian population between 1890 and 1910 fell to fewer than 250,000. (It was not until 1917 that Indian births exceeded deaths for the first time in fifty years.)

Oh say can you see Alma. The darlingof Them. All her friends were artists.They alone have memories. They alonelove flowers. They alone give partiesand die. Poor Alma. They alone.She died,and it was as if all the jewels in the worldhad heaved a sigh. The seismographat Fordham university registered, for once,a spiritual note. How like a sliverin her own short fat muscular foot.She loved the Western World, thoughthere are some who say she isn't really dead.

Just for a while": Death's opening chat-up line in His great seduction, before he drugged you with soporific comforts, distracted you with minor luxuries and ensnared you with long-term payment plans.Join the Rat Race "just for a while."Concentrate on your career "just for a while."Move in with your girlfriend "just for a while."Find a bigger place, out in the burbs "just for a while."Lie down in that wooden box "just for a while.

Nausea and panic rose in my throat. I had killed a man.

She's no longer afraid to die. What she's afraid of is living, accepting the status quo.

Don't burn the corpse!Zombies don't like fire!

Now life is given in exchange for pain and fear, and that's the basis of the whole deception. Now man is still not what he should be. There will e a new man, happy and proud. Whoever doesn't care whether he lives or doesn't live, he himself will be God. And that other God will no longer be.''So, that other God does exist, in your opinion?''He doesn't exist, but he does exist. In the stone there' no pain, but in the fear of the stone there is pain. God is the pain of the fear of death. Whoever conquers pain and fear will himself become God.

it does seemthe more we drinkthe better the wordsgo.

You are as the yellow leaf.The messengers of death are at hand.You are to travel far away.What will you take with you?You are the lampTo lighten the way.Then hurry, hurry.When your light shinesWithout impurity or desireYou will come into the boundless country.Your life is falling away.Death is at hand.Where will you rest on the way?What have you taken with you?You are the lampTo lighten the way.Then hurry, hurry.When your light shines purelyYou will not be bornAnd you will not die.

Her words didn’t have the acrid smell of death.

How ugly we must look to them, spilling light into every dark corner to push back the shadows, blinding ourselves to the true beauty of emptiness.

The final reward of the dead - to die no more

I am so happy that I grew up knowing the word of God, the spirit of discernment in me is 24hrs activated, I can differentiate between light and darkness. I put on the amour of God even when the whole world is going to hell, I refuse to join them. The light in me shall overshadow every power of darkness.