Quotes About Life

To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...

Dying was misery. Death was that period at the end of the sentence.

And the camel driver had said, 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.

As long as I have a want I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death.

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

Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath And after many a summer dieth the swan.

One short sleep past will wake eternally And death shall be no more Death thou shalt die.

The question is whether suicide is the way out or the way in.

Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it.

There may be little or much beyond the grave But the strong are saying nothing until they see.

Death be not proud though some have called Thee Mighty and dreadful for thou art not so.

Death so called is a thing which makes men weep And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep.

Is death the last sleep? No it is the last final awakening.

Strange - is it not? - that of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too.

Till tired he sleeps and life's poor play is o'er.

To die: - to sleep: No more and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.

First our pleasures die - and then Our hopes and then our fears - and when These are dead the debt is due Dust claims dust - and we die too.

I am not ready to die, But I am learning to trust deathAs I have trusted life.I am movingToward a new freedom

Death only comes when a being has served its purpose. From a narrow perspective, that purpose may not be clear, but in the grand scheme of things, it makes perfect sense.

Death must die so that life can be real!

Death descended like a theatrical storm over the Drakensberg Mountains, stranding me while it ran its course.

Death is a bored clerk, with too many orders to fill. There is no reckoning. No profound moment. It creeps up on us from behind, and snatches us away while we shit.

Death's life should have listened to the moonly whispers of breathing in the coldest nights

I fear death. I think I must learn to romanticize death so that I can cope with its brutal irreversible numbness...!