Quotes About Dying

He had a smug smile on his lips like he knew, even in his sleep, that women all around him were dying from love because he'd taken their hearts and hidden them where they'd never find them.

In our racist, sexist society, Christmas is the 8 hours when we stop killing each other and gratutious over eating is encouraged so that the starving and other people in the world can die!

So many people are campaigning, fighting, and even dying to make a statement in the name of humanity. These people have no voice that can be heard by many. I wish more celebrities would take the initiative to be that voice.

Ev'ry season hath its pleasures: Spring may boast her flow'ry prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures Brighten autumn's sob'rer time... Nor regret the blossoms dying, While we still can taste the fruit.

Why does he send war and epidemics? What does the heat of this great anger mean? Surely dying times are to make men die to the world.

Isn't it funny to think that this magnificent piece of matter is in a state of decay? Really, can you think of any other living thing that looks this glorious as it's dying?

Ka thought it strangely depressing that the suicide girls had had to struggle to find a private moment to kill themselves. Even after swallowing their pills, even as they lay quietly dying, they'd had to share their rooms with others.

However blissful it is being a soul without a body in the realm of the dead, so too is being a body without a soul among the living; what a pity nobody realizes this before dying. Therefore, during my lovely funeral, as I grievously watched my dear Shekure wear herself out weeping in vain, I begged of Exalted Allah to grant us souls-without bodies in Heaven and bodies-without-souls in life.

He was cold and tired, but he ignored the cold. Around him stars shone. Some bright, some dim, the most constant things in life. Segundo smiled up at them, happy at least to be dying among friends.

Lared sat before the fire, watching the flames trying to escape up the chimney, always dying before they quite made it out. *

You're pretty much obliged to reckon that at the last suspiration the dying become not only acceptant of death but dedicated to it. That there must be some epiphany that makes it possible for even the dullest and most deluded of us to accept not only what is unacceptable but unimaginable. The absolute terminus of the world. Which will not wonder even for the briefest second what might have become of us.

It is not to be thought that the life of darkness is sunk in misery and lost as if in sorrowing. There is no sorrowing. For sorrow is a thing that is swallowed up in death, and death and dying are the very life of the darkness. JACOB BOEHME

The dying man sang with great clarity and intention and the riders setting forth upcountry may have ridden more slowly the longer to hear him for they were of just these qualities themselves.

That dying child, that wasn't us, so don't you cuss and don't you dare Cross-the-sprites-and-curse-their-spite-and-make-your-hand-a-stony-fist. You can't punch us, We don't exist, We're only mist, And that was just the wind that hissed.

We all live with this terrible, heartbreaking hypocrisy in Christianity, when the teaching finally leaves us in th dust. How do we die before we die? How do we love our neighbors as ourselves? How do we bridge the gap between what we believe and what we can actually live?

A dying king, said Sir Thomas More, is apt to be wiser than a healthy king.

The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored , and unsung. Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)

You may say that I am just another outdated old man complaining about progress and the changes of time. But, you see, I have well considered that possibility myself, and am prepared o submit to correction by anybody who cares about a community, who can show me how the world is improved by that community's dying.

I'm dying and all I hear are insults!

Dreaming's shit, but dying's worse; and watching someone die, that comes somewhere between the two, I guess. It ain't good, but it's got to be better than the other thing, better than doing it yourself. Hasn't it?

That sound . . . that sound, it came from his mouth. It was the song of something dying. Something that never did live.

Hope, like the dim glow from a flashlight with a dying battery, lingered.

Bright sunset clouds, flushed with a crimson glow, Linger about the calm departing day, Like spirits round a good man's dying bed...

We are, perhaps, uniquely among the earth's creatures, the worrying animal. We worry away our lives, fearing the future, discontent with the present, unable to take in the idea of dying, unable to sit still.