Quotes About Immortality

The Physics of Immortality

We're only immortal for a limited time.

Globalization is in crisis. Populism is on the march. Authoritarian states are ascendant. Technology meanwhile marches inexorably ahead, threatening to render most human beings redundant or immortal or both. How do we make sense of all this?

I enter the ancient courts of rulers who have long since died. There I am warmly welcomed, and I feed on the only food I find nourishing, and was born to savor. I am not ashamed to talk to them, and to ask them to explain their actions. And they, out of kindness, answer me. Four hours go by without my feeling any anxiety. I forget every worry. I am no longer afraid of poverty, or frightened of death. I live entirely through

Languages change, as they pass from the lips of one generation to the next, but there is nothing about this process of transmission which makes for decay or extinction. Like life itself, each new generation can receive the gift of its language afresh. And so it is that languages, unlike any of the people who speak them, need never grow infirm, or die. Every language has a chance of immortality, but this is not to say that it will survive for ever.

My music will go on forever. Maybe it's a fool say that, but when me know facts me can say facts. My music will go on forever.

I'd like to think I've left something in the world. Without in any way trying to be morbid, but life is very short, and I'd like to think I'd leave some body of work that would inspire other musicians long after I've gone.

Every band wants to be have a song that is that big, that will pretty much live on forever. I don't know too many new bands that will have a 'Free Bird' that will be around 30 years later. It's become a national anthem of sorts.

I had not heard that about vampires not existing," Aidan responded with a mocking grin. "I wish I had known earlier. It might have saved me a great deal of trouble over the centuries.

Dimitri Tirunul was her unexpected miracle. A man beyond any she'd ever dreamt of. She was human. He was Carpathian— nearly immortal. She was nineteen years old. He was an ancient, centuries old. She held the other half of his soul, the light to his darkness. Without her, he would not survive. She was his lifemate— his savior. Yet she knew just the opposite was true— Dimitri was the one saving her.

How old do you think I am, Alexandria? Aidan asked softly. I have lived over eight hundred years now. You are irrevocably bound to me. Is it such a terrible fate? For a moment there was silence. Then she was smiling at him. Ask me again in a hundred years. I'll tell you then.

I would have aged right along with you. When your breath ceased, so would mine." She shook her head. "How can I resist you, Mikhail, when you steal my heart?" His grin turned her heart over, somersaulted her stomach. "You are not supposed to resist me, little one. I am your other half.

Gregori's cool silver gaze slid over him as Mikhail relinquished the herbs. "It is a wonder you have been able to tie your shoes without me all of these centuries." Mikhail sank down beside his brother, one hand over his burning eyes. "It is more of a wonder you have stayed alive with your ostentatious displays. Remind me to remove my impressionable brother from your disrespectful presence before your winning ways rub off on him.

Honor is a damnable trait and one that may not last eternity.

She is well?" Gregori asked. "Jacques knows to watch over her. She asked about you." Gregori's eyebrow shot up. He doubted that anyone had inquired about his health, not in centuries, other than Mikhail. He didn't respond to the statement, unsure of what to think about another being including him in their circle.

This will never go away, Shea, what we feel for one another. It never goes away. It gets stronger with each century. You never have to worry about losing this intensity." He felt her smile against his bare skin, the small kiss she pressed into his chest. "I might not survive.

From Alan Lightman's intricate 1993 novel Einstein's Dreams; set in Berne in 1905: With infinite life comes an infinite list of relatives. Grandparents never die, nor do great-grandparents, great-aunts...and so on, back through the generations, all alive and offering advice. Sons never escape from the shadows of their fathers. Nor do daughters of their mothers. No one ever comes into his own...Such is the cost of immortality. No person is whole. No person is free.

At the evident risk of seeming ridiculous, I want to begin by saying that I have tried for much of my life to write as if I was composing my sentences to be read posthumously. I hope this isn't too melodramatic or self-centred a way of saying that I attempt to write as if I did not care what reviewers said, what peers thought, or what prevailing opinions may be.

From Alan Lightman's intricate 1993 novel Einstein's Dreams; set in Berne in 1905: With infinite life comes an infinite list of relatives. Grandparents never die, nor do great-grandparents, great-aunts… and so on, back through the generations, all alive and offering advice. Sons never escape from the shadows of their fathers. Nor do daughters of their mothers. No one ever comes into his own… Such is the cost of immortality. No person is whole. No person is free.

No creo en la inmortalidad del individuo, y considero que la ética es una preocupación exclusivamente humana que no está respaldada por ninguna autoridad sobrehumana.

I do not especially like the idea that one day I shall be tapped on the shoulder and informed, not that the party is over but that it is most assuredly going on—only henceforth in my absence. ... Much more horrible, though, would be the announcement that the party was continuing forever, and that I was forbidden to leave.

With infinite life comes an infinite list of relatives. Grandparents never die, nor do great-grandparents, great-aunts … and so on, back through the generations, all alive and offering advice. Sons never escape from the shadows of their fathers. Nor do daughters of their mothers. No one ever comes into his own … Such is the cost of immortality. No person is whole. No person is free.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.— Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies...

For whilst I live, here lives my soul's sole hope, And when I die, here shall my spirit walk.