Death Quotes

The death of a child occasions a passion of grief and frantic tears, such as your end, brother reader, will never inspire.

Choose a friend as thou dost a wife, till death separate you.

Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still.

[I]f we assume a liberty interest but nevertheless say that, even assuming a liberty interest, a state can prohibit it entirely, that would be rather a conundrum.

That the God-man died for his people, and that His death is their life, is an idea which was in some degree foreshadowed by the older mystical sacrifices.

Time: a landing field! Death needs time like a junkie needs junk.

In the time of your life, live-so that in that good time there shall be no ugliness or death for yourself or for any life your life touches.

Though Death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

Unless the old adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.

It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

I would fain die a dry death.

Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?

I care not, a man can die but once; we owe God and death.

. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.

Death-counterfeiting sleep.

O wretched state! o bosom black as death!

Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.

Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.

Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.

Live how we can, yet die we must.

Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched; For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.

Misers, as death approaches, are heaping up a chest of reasons to stand in more awe of him.

Let us live like those who expect to die, and then we shall find that we feared death only because we were unacquainted with it.

Death is the quiet haven of us all.

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.

The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.

The world, with all its beauty and adventure, its richness and variety, is darkened by cruelty. Death, if it ends the loveliness, the adventure, ends also that. Death balances the picture.

The decaying that had dragged on for too long had only turned tragedy into nuisance; death, when it strikes, better completes its annihilating act on the first try.

The belief that consciousness extends beyond death is surely to put more belief in the permanence of self, not less. That seems to me a comfort that you're allowing yourself.

Realism is death to me. I cannot stand life as it is.

Fishing is a pleasure of retirement, yet the angler has the power to let the fish live or die.

There is something about poverty that smells like death.

There was a lot they didn’t tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart.

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.

There are moments when a rope's end, a pole, the branch of the tree, is life itself, and it is a frightful thing to see a living being lose his hold upon it, and fall like a ripe fruit.

People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn't. It continues and is ever-changing.

If after I die, people want to write my biography, there is nothing simpler. They only need two dates: the date of my birth and the date of my death. Between one and another, every day is mine.

Whether we like it or not, the one justification for the existence of all religions is death, they need death as much as we need bread to eat.

I do not cling to life sufficiently to fear death.

As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight.

There is only one religion - it is a way a man dies.

Nothing is ever certain.

Afterwards, when it's all over, you meet God. What do you say to God?

Who knoweth if to die be but to live, and that called life by mortals be but death?