Death Quotes

Birth and death - what could be more monstrous than that? We like to deceive ourselves and call it wondrous and beautiful and majestic, but it's freakish, let's face it.

The dead do not harm us, only the alive.

Death is a scandal. The machine is functioning, we are all hostages

A little smoke lost in the air, that was the life of a man.

The fact of having been born is a bad augury for immortality.

In the end, all you want is someone to long for you when it comes time to put you in the ground.

Being alone can be good. It's easy to find peace alone. But sometimes, being alone is a king of death.

If there is nothing else there is this: to be inundated, consumed.

The grave and the image are equally links with the irrecoverable and symbols for the unimaginable.

Even when our death is imminent, we carry the image of ourselves moving forward, alive, into the future.

People aren't often asked to make life or death decisions. There are no causes to die for. You can go through life never knowing which of your friends would really come through for you

If I lie down on my bed I must be here, But if I lie down in my grave I may be elsewhere.

Love is not love that wounded bleeds And bleeding sullies slow. Come death within my hands and I Unto my love will go.

Suicides? Heart attacks? The papers didn't seem interested. The world was full of ways to die, too many to cover. Newsworthy deaths had to be exceptional. Most people go unobserved.

Death is alive, they whispered. Death lives inside life, as bones dance within the body. Yesterday is within today. Yesterday never dies.

The dead person is not truly dead until the last person who rememebers them dies.

All creation necessarily ends in this: Creators, powerless, fleeing from the things they have wrought.

I say the same thing about the death of James Wait. "Oh, well -- he wasn't going to write the Beethoven's Ninth Symphony anyway.

Wherever you look there is so much loss and folly to contemplate.

Glory is the sunshine of the dead

A dead dog is more quiet than a house on the steppes, a chair in a empty room.

An enemy is like a man's most prized flower. It brings him joy to see it buried in the ground.

There are worse ways to die than warm and drunk.

Time and death sleep side by side.

I carry the seeds of death within me and plant them wherever I linger long enough to love.

Please bury me in the library With a dozen long-stemmed proses

It was like a dream you might have after death in which lost people came back to life, your friends loved you again no matter what you had done, and your failures were unaccountably forgiven.

And in this moment, I realize one reason it's so great to have a best friend is sometimes, like right now, Cal and I are thinking the very same thing.

The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.

Cure the symptoms, cure the disease.

I don't know much more than I did when I was alive. Most of the stuff I know now that I didn't know then I can't put into words.

There was no safety. There was no pride. All there was, was money. Everything became money, and money became everything. Money treated us as if we were things, and we died.

One is seldom unchanged by the death of those one loves. It gives me a deeper knowledge of them, and so of oneself in regard to them.

Our lives carry us along in ways we cannot control, and almost nothing stays with us. It dies when we do, and death is something that happens to us every day.

Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?

Western funerals: black hearses, and black horses, and fast-fading flowers. Why should black be the colour of death? Why not the colours of a sunset?

May be able to die those who didn't know how to live

The misfortune is that although everyone must come to [death], each experiences the adventure in solitude. We never left Maman during those last days... and yet we were profoundly separated from her.

The dead and not-yet dead, we are company all together.

Of my conception I know only what you know of yours. It occurred in darkness and I was unconsenting... By some bleak alchemy what had been mere unbeing becomes death when life is mingled with it.

A human being needs only a small plot of ground on which to be happy, and even less to lie beneath.

Not every loss was confirmed by an officer at the door. Nor a telegram with the power to sink a fleet. Loss, often the worst kind, also arrived through the deafening quiet of an absence.

You think it's so great to die and make everyone cry and carry on. Well it ain't.

On their deathbed men will speak true, they say.

Every thought about death takes a moment of life away.

Unless a reincarnationist is willing to say there was a 'first generation' of souls created with the first humans, he is exposed to absurdity by the recency of human life on the planet.

It's what's known as an origin myth. What happened to me? That's no myth.

There are far more reasons for death than there are for life.

There comes a stage at which a man would rather die cleanly by a bullet than by the unknown terror of the phantom in the forest.

Boys play with death as though it were a game, cutting their teeth on daggers.