Quotes About Finality

The thing I've always liked about the playoffs is the finality of it and knowing there's so much importance on every play.

Every competition I do, I never know if it's the last one.

I think I can recognize when a piece is at a state of completion.

You don't get dead and there not be consequences.

As a great man's influence never ends, so also there is not definite finality, no end, to a great survey; it runs along for centuries, ever responsive to the strain of the increasing needs of a growing population and an enlarging domain.

I'm not frightened about death. I don't know why, but I just feel that at a certain moment your switch is switched off, and that's it. And you can't do anything about it.

Death is not a joke.

Ye should have killed me, watched the last mean sigh Sneak through my nostril like a

Promise me...that you'll...*cough*...you'll dispose of my body in the waste receptacles...conveniently located by the theater exits...

Death is the most predictable of life's events. It is the opposite of a miracle.

Poems and epitaphs are but stuff, Here lies Bob Barras and that's enough.

Here I lie at the Chapel door, Here lie I because I'm poor, The farther in the more you'l pay, Here lie I as warm as they.

Because there was only one thing worse than dying. And that was knowing you were going to die. And where. And how. ("Death Ship")

With words I have knit my shroud and will bury myself therein

When it can't go on, that's when this will end. Then they'll never see each other again, except for always.

the sadness of completion.

What's the best part about writing a book? Finishing it.

What does it matter what people do? At the end of the day we're all dead.

At the last moment, Antoinette came out of her faint and shouted one word to her child. That word, reader, was adieu... Adieu is the French word for farewell. "Farewell" is not the word you would like to hear from your mother as you are being led to the dungeon by two oversize mice in black hoods... "Farewell" is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.

That such a final, tragic, and awful thing is suicide can exist in the midst of remarkable beauty is one of the vastly contradictory and paradoxical aspects of life and art.

Ethel kissed as if she had one minute left to live.

I sighed, surrendering speech, but held on to her arm. "Viv . . . ?" If this was the last of it, I wanted the last look of good-by.

Once a relationship is done, it's done. You can't do that back and forth thing.

And that's when I know it's over. As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end.