Quotes About Dead

There is always a cause, but not always a because. And even when there is, the dead are beyond its reach or caring.

No man, unless he be dead in living, can feel at anchor in this life.

may I say prayers for the dead?

Baseball is a game dominated by vital ghosts; it's a fraternity, like no other we have of the active and the no longer so, the living and the dead.

We resurrected our history in order to sell tickets and make money from it, but it's more powerful than we are. It's like we resurrected a monster and now we can't control it. Sometimes it feels like progress is impossible, because the dead are running the show.

The evil that is in Man comes of sluggish minds...for sluggards cannot think, and will not...Send upon us thy flames that we may be burnt of dead thoughts, even as we burn dead grass...make us see.

The silence of the library was complete save for the thudding of his shoes as he walked along the second-floor hallway. Outside, there were birds sometimes and, even lacking that, there seemed to be a sort of sound outside. Inexplicable, perhaps, but it never seemed deathly still in the open as it did inside a building. Especially here in this giant, gray-stoned building that housed the literature of a world's dead.

Did you know, Robert, that, in extreme unction, the seven centers of the body—covering the vital organs—are anointed to assist the dying person to withdraw vitality from those organs in preparation for complete withdrawal through the silver cord? And absolution of the dead was established to make certain that the silver cord is severed and all etheric matter withdrawn from the body.

All this time I have been telling myself that the skills I have to offer continue to be of value. Now I wonder if this is so. It may be that the day of the so-called "gunfighter" is on the wane. That soon it will be little more than the memory of a brief period in time when masters of the handgun ruled the frontier. A living dead man. That is what I have been for some time now.

His appetite for human self-regard is dead.

Something has broken in him. His appetite for human self-regard is dead.

Surely some smart Army lawyers could figure out why the act of carrying Ebola-ridden dead monkeys across state lines in the trunk of a private automobile was so completely legal that there had never even been any question about it.

wisely put it years ago, " Tradition is the living faith of the dead. Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living, and I suppose I should add, it is traditionalism that gives Tradition such a bad name."1

They might have been interesting if the people beneath had done the writing, but the living had nothing worthwhile to say about the dead.

Death... The voice dropped even more, black-gloved hands disappearing into the black folds of material. Don't you feel it? We're all dead here...all...very...dead.

Safety from what? Who's after me? Oh, nobody much, Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.

There! Apollo pointed. Long Island, dead ahead. Let's slow down, dear. 'Dead' is only an expression.

Anubis frowned. He locked his very nice eyes with mine. "You're not dead." "No," I said. "Though we're trying awfully hard.

They're not dead," I told the goat. "They both have pulses." "Oh." The goat sighed. "Well, give them a few more hours and they'll probably be dead." "What is wrong with you?" "Everything," said the goat.

Please!' That word didn't make sense to Nico. The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice. 'You're already dead,' Nico said. 'You're a ghost with no tongue, no memory. You won't be sharing any secrets.

Don't worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead.

Most people call it The Book of the Dead," he told me. "Rich Egyptians were always buried with a copy, so they could have directions through the Duat to the Land of the Dead. It's like an Idiot's Guide to the Afterlife.

As for my brothers,' Zeus said, 'we are thankful -' he cleared his throat, like the words were hard to get out - 'erm, thankful for the aid of Hades.' The Lord of the Dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but I figure he'd earned the right. He patted his son Nico on the shoulders, and Nico looked happier than I'd ever seen him.

More minions!" he shouted. "Come to me!" That couldn't be good. Another round of giant crocs and we'd be dead. Why don't we get minions? I complained to Horus, but he didn't answer.