Quotes About Dead

People are always saying the humanities are dead so it's strange how many conferences there are.

God is a feeble, emasculated non-God on a cross who can't even save himself. If he can't save himself, how can he save you? Give us Nietzsche's Superman any day. God is dead. Long live the Overman. The task is to get stronger and stronger, not weaker and weaker.

Oh, bother!," said Pooh, as Piglet came back from the dead.

Darkness has completely descended onto the landscape and I stood up and stretched my arms above my head and I wondered what it would be like if it were a perfect world. Only god knows. And he is dead.

And watch out for Molly. See if she does anything unusual. There's something I don't trust about the way she exploded and then came back from the dead like that.

Let's say you have an ax. Just a cheap one, from Home Depot. On one bitter winter day, you use said ax to behead a man. Don't worry, the man was already dead. Or maybe you should worry, because you're the one who shot him.

There was an incident," he said. "A series of incidents, I guess. A dead guy, another dead guy. Some drugs. It's kind of a long story.

No jewels, except hair jewelry," Aunt Hermia was saying. I repressed a shudder. I had never warmed to the notion of wearing a dead person's hair braided around my wrist or knotted at my ears.

Pity is for the living, envy is for the dead.

So my sister dances and the dead house burns, and I scrawl these few last words by the light of its burning. I know I should toss this story, too, on those flames. But I am still too much a storyteller -or at least a storykeeper-still too much my father's daughter to burn these pages.

Freedom is all or nothing. With the likes of this would-be heartrending rabble, these pseudopathetic peons beating his battering rams against the gates, Dio knew that, in time, he was sure to smash them down. When freedom expands to mean freedom of instinct and social destruction, then freedom is dead.

Brentford gave the polite smile of a man who talks daily with a living mechanical head about a city in the Arctic Circle governed by hermaphrodite Siamese twins born from a dead woman, and refrained from further comments about the probable and improbable.

Jack!" she said. "What did you do to Lydia? Why does she look dead?

If I had not known that the Bible shows demons are impersonators of the dead, I probably would have always continued to believe that Mum and I were just unlucky and had somehow attracted the wrong type of spirits to us. I'd have continued to believe we had mischievous or obnoxious spirits pretending to be my grandmother and sister, and that's why they later attacked us. It never before had crossed my mind as a spiritualist that all the spirits were imposters!

My problem is that Guffaw is dead in the trunk of this car, and we may very well be joining him. In being dead. Not in being in the trunk.

Three hours waiting in a graveyard after dark starts to get to you. I don't know why. Maybe it's all the dead people hanging around underground. Whatever it was, by the time my watch said it was ten minutes to midnight, I had a major case of the creeps, the willies, and the heebie-jeebies. At least the flesh-eating zombies were keeping themselves hidden away. I sat there for another ten minutes and the same nothing that had been happening all night continued happening.

Hansel and Gretel had breadcrumbs, she had plastic spiders. Worst-case scenario, she could find her way back by following the trail of dead birds that had choked on them.

Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead.

He's a man who measures words as if he had only a few given to him by Fate; too generous a syllable from his lips, and he might fall over dead.

And so all of these thoughts overwhelmed me when I woke from my hiding place in an alley the next morning, having slept on garbage and filth, to find it — wearing a large gray hat, small as a child but with the wizened features of something already dead — staring down at me.

It's a laugh that comes from beyond happiness and sadness. From beyond faith and anger. It's a laugh that only the dead can appreciate.

I was not unsympathetic with John's mood, but I did hope he was not about to transfer his affections from Charity to the mummy. Charity had not encouraged him, but there can be no more unresponsive recipient of love than a woman who has been dead for seventeen hundred years, give or take a century.

Oh of course—how ridiculous of me!" cried Mrs. Wilkins, flushing scarlet. "It's because—she floundered—it's because the immortals somehow still seem alive, don't they—as if they were here, going to walk into the room in another minute—and one forgets they are dead. In fact one knows perfectly well that they're not dead—not nearly so dead as you and I even now," she assured

Mrs. Mitcham had seen more love about in the flat than she could remember during the whole of poor Mr. Cumfrit's time in it. She couldn't help wondering what that poor gentleman would say if he could see what was happening in his flat. He wouldn't much like it, she was afraid; but perhaps hardly anybody who was dead would much like what they would see, supposing they were able to come back and look.