To The Death Quotes
Death, in its certainty, is exacting its due respect and repose before it takes my hand.
Dogs will give you unconditional love until the day they die. Cats will make you pay for every mistake you've ever made since the day you were born.
It has always been my belief that I, too, will die by violence. I have done all that I can to be prepared.
I love that moment, when you stop struggling to stay awake and your eyelids shut sink down and you slip effortlessly into another realm that’s beckoning to you.
Once people get hung up on theology, they've lost sanity forever. More people have been killed in the name of Jesus Christ than any other name in the history of the world.
And I met Madeline's necromancer. His name's Luca." "A death detector?" Tod made a face. "That's creepy." "It gets weirder. He's dating Sophie." "On purpose?
Sam and Caine were left standing side by side, bruised and battered, to stare over Penny's sickening corpse, at the face of their mother.
That’s part of what I like about the book in some ways. It portrays death truthfully. You die in the middle of your life, in the middle of a sentence
There is only one things in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.
Dying has a funny way of making you see people, the living and the dead, a little differently. Maybe that's just part of the grieving, or maybe the dead stand there and open our eyes a bit wider.
Who set Rome on fire? The man we must admire. For killing his wife, and taking the life of mother and brother and so many others, while plucking his damnable lyre.
... life is a flickering candle we all carry around. A gust of wind, a meaningless accident, a microsecond of carelessness, and it's out. Forever.
Death, of course, should not be feared, but awaited with certain wonder. To die was to step across a threshold into a new world, unknown, unimaginable.
This will be Great Mam's last spring. Her last June apples. Her last fresh roasting ears from the garden.
Beauty is transformed over time, and not without destruction.
When we're alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it's as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.
Wars are indeed fought by children, by young people who have little to say in where they are sent to die.
I mean, he was something that happened to me, you know? But before he was this minor figure in the drama of my life he was - you know, the central figure in the drama of his own life.
Besides, I can't get to where I want to go by conscious or unconscious suicide. I've got my strange little life to lead. Leading it the best I can - that's how I buy the ticket to where I want to be.
Apparently even the most awful tragedies, and the people they'd ruined, got a little stale after a while.
There was no logic or any sense of purpose except that I knew I had to do something other than what I was doing, or I might not make it through this.
It is almost startling to hear this warning of departed time sounding among the tombs, and telling the lapse of the hour, which, like a billow, has rolled us onward towards the grave.
Should you ever feel too lonely...listen for the roar of the sea- for in it are all those who've been and all those who are to come.
Myths of the heroes speak most eloquently of man's quest to choose life over death.
How do I get past my fears? Make a life for myself? Risk loving someone? When death is all that waits for you, what's the point in trying to have a life?
War was the ultimate chaos, a pounding, soul-destroying snarl, ending in blown-apart men lying unburied on the cold earth. There was nothing more cosmically chaotic than war.
Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.
I don't think you should die until you're ready. Until you've wrung out every last bit of living you can.
And the worst part is before it gets any better we're heading for a cliff. And in the free fall I will realize I'm better off when I hit the bottom
When you're dead, everything in the world is like a song that makes you cry.
It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zigzagging to show us the true nature of life.
As yet we know nothing of what goes to create or evoke the active spark of life.
How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
No. There is no balance, and no retribution, and no rules. The rules and balances you blather about are hopeful creations of a man fearing death.
I would prove to you that being different isn't a death sentence but a call to arms.
You're mortal, and only a mortal can afford to be romantic. When we conquered death, we murdered love.
Tip to all British tabloids: Do Not Hack Amy Winehouse's Phone. I repeat: Do Not Hack Amy Winehouse's Phone.
Surely that was why faith had been invented: to raise teenagers without dying. Although of course it was also why death was invented: to escape teenagers altogether.
