Death Quotes
Don't look shy if you wear rag and people gag, many are in the grave wearing skeleton, and you should even be happier for wearing a skin without clothes.
What did you do for them, Bone? Teach them to read and write? Help them rebuild, give them Christ, help restore a culture? Did you remember to warn them that it could never be Eden?
Death is universal. The rituals associated with it, however, vary substantially—and are greatly influenced by their religious and cultural context.
Culture uses art to dream the deaths of beautiful women.
My God, Justin, do you hate him so?""Bah!" said his Grace..."does one hate an adder? Because it is venomous and loathsome one crushes it underfoot, as I shall crush this Comte.
I'm always angry about the death of people who are still alive, their eyes are opened, yet they can't see anything...the spell of ignorance
It was my first dead body and I waited for the appropriate feelings. I didn't know what feelings to expect, which was worse than realising that I had none.
In a surreal gift from the universe, time both stands still and flies past you in that singular moment when you find out someone you once loved is gone.
The measure of a man lies not in his lengthy accomplishments, but in his decisions when he is faced with the certain, indisputable knowledge that he is going to die.
Bambi was inspired, and said trembling, "There is Another who is over us all, over us and over Him.
The easiest way to be immortal is to stop thinking and the easiest way to stop thinking is to work hard physically! Remember, when you don’t think, you are immortal!
I lost my beautiful mind with a nasty lady, i give her the true pure of love and she gives me a slow poison of death
There's a big difference between hating someone in peace and hating someone during war.
A coward's gun is emptied when fear pulls the trigger, and hate is the ammunition of choice.
Instead of hating, my heart cries mercy! Mercy on me! Mercy on me! Mercy on me!
Experience has thought me that there is only one short step between Love and Hate, as there is between Life and Death.
Don't judge me. Ethics and morality no longer exist in our world. It's a luxury of the past, afforded only to those who had a future.
...all a guy can do is die once. The big difference is whether he dies clean - or dirty... ("I'm Dangerous Tonight")
When the dead betray the living, the victims are memories.--The Book of Brin
All the people we loved, who have died, are still alive in the past. The only thing that really separates us is time. It's a matter of perspective. That's what separates optimism and pessimism.
She knew that the dead hid pieces of themselves in the world. They buried organs in the living. They stuffed memories into trees and clouds and other innocuous things.
Some people walk into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts. Others walk into our lives and we want to leave footprints on their face!
A place with no handholds, no landmarks, no past at all:That would have been too much like dying
Even post true death memories carried on the waves of universal energy will defy the faux perception of finality.
Spending moments with another in earnest presence is one of the simple ways we can show unconditional love. It is the memories created from these impressions that survive after all else passes.
When those who name dead people have gone, there just remains the calmness of foreign cemeteries, in which nothing appears familiar and nothing frightens you.
When I lay down on my deathbed, I want to know that I have done all I could to be a first rate human, not a third rate pawn of the gods.
I walk this road of flames and danger alone. To see the ocean of dreams. And drink from its endless freedom that flows though our vein's to be someone/something much more than human.
You both talk too much, ” the kid says. “Shut up. Don’t make me tell you again.”We shut up, which I find hysterically funny.
HE LIKED TO COOK AND LAUGH AND SING, COULD START A FIRE WITH HIS HANDS, FIX THINGS THAT WERE BROKEN, AND EXPLAIN HOW TO LAUNCH THINGS INTO SPACE, BUT HE DIED WITHIN NINE MONTHS
Time makes everything mean and shabby and wrinkled. The tragedy of life, Howard, is not that the beautiful things die young, but that they grow old and mean.
Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can get.
I want something good to die for. . . to make it beautiful to live.
Death, is a beautiful conclusion to these short stories, that which we have so interestingly entitled, lives.
