Quotes About Dying

And nostalgia is a cancer. Nostalgia will fill your heart up with tumors. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what you are. You're just an old fart dying of terminal nostalgia.

Because someone needs to help you die the right way," she said. "And we both know that dying ain't something you ever done before.

What does this Daimon look like? (Xedrix) He's tall and blond. (Kyle) Well, that narrows it down to every Daimon here except Stryker. What would that be? Several thousand of them? Could you be a bit more specific and if you tell me he was dressed in black, I'll kill you myself and spare me the agony of dying. (Xedrix)

Let's play it safe. I'm not in the mood to run right now and I know fighting is suicide. Last thing I want to do is make my enemies happy by dying. (Syn)

You can't fear dying when you have no reason to live.

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

Living is the challenge. Not dying. Dying is so easy. Sometimes it only takes ten seconds to die. But living? That can take you eighty years and you do something in that time.

I've been short all my life. And if anyone wonders what my dying wish will be, they can stop wondering. That will be easy. I'll just tell them, 'I'll have a short bier.'

Far more frightening than the thought of dying was the experience of erasure already occurring in my life. My fear of becoming someone who did not count.

The bite of existence did not cut into one in Hollywood ... Life elsewhere was real and slippery and struggled in the arms like a big fish dying in air.

You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.

The biggest fear of my life is living. My second biggest fear is dying.

Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.

Because there is no glory in illness. There is no meaning to it. There is no honor in dying of.

The Swan It was April, I remember, though my spirit was December, When a broken bird was lifted from the darkness of the lake, In the sun white feathers gleaming, from her mouth black water streaming, While within my voice was screaming until I thought my heart would break; It was I who watched her dying, drifting, drifting, waiting in her wake For God her soul to take.

About this time, whether he felt there wasn't sufficient drama in his life or that he was determined not to be outdone by Miss McCabe, he decided that he was dying.

But all life turns away from its own eventual hopelessness, leaving insomnia and its night to lovers and the dying.

We have to hope. When I'm dying and ready to go, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to hope with all my heart. And then I'm going to let go. Hope I don't disappear. Hope I land somewhere safely.

Lots of my dying patients say they grow in bounds and leaps, and finish all the unfinished business. But assisting a suicide is cheating them of these lessons, like taking a student out of school before final exams. That's not love, it's projecting your own unfinished business

Those who have the strength and the love to sit with a dying patient in the silence that goes beyond words will know that this moment is neither frightening nor painful, but a peaceful cessation of the functioning of the body.

Art replaces the light that is lost when the day fades, the moment passes, the evanescent extraordinary makes its quicksilver. Art tries to capture that which we know leaves us, as we move in and out of each other's lives, as we all must eventually leave this earth. Great artists know that shadow, work always against the dying light, but always knowing that the day brings new light and that the ocean which washes away all traces on the sand leaves us a new canvas with each wave.

The Light had failed and with it its children, but these other children-the mortal children, candle-flickers-continud endlessly fighting and dying and returning their blood to the wash of the sorrowful sea. The mortals had a saying, that blood was thicker than water. But to Muire blood was water: the water of the ocean, and the force of the Light upon it.

Night was all around her, but a denser patch flowed forward, stepping over the dying boy to pause beyond the reach of her blade.

It was the most stunning protest I could think of, dying to oppose the Synarche, doing a little damage along the way.