Quotes About Dead

She knew of a scribe dressed all in white who penned letters to the dead (and delivered them), and an old storyteller who sold ideas to writers at the price of a year of their lives. Karou had seen tourists laugh as they signed his contract, not believing it for a second, but she believed it. Hadn't she seen stranger things?

The scream drew others. The others screamed, too, not because a girl was dead, but because the girl was blue,

It occurred to her then that it was silence and not grief that connected them, that would keep them forever connected, the living and the dead—her, Noah, Opal, Harold, Janie, Marie, her parents, maybe the whole world, and that this was not such a bad thing,

Peace We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark They could not see Who had gained The victory.

Through many waters borne, brother, I am come to thy sad grave, that I may give these last gifts to the dead. Forever and ever, brother, hail. Forever and ever, farewell.

Over my dead body, I thought. Yes, even immortals use that phrase. It has extra oomph for us.

Tracy looked at me with affectionate pity. "You feel alive. Regular people feel dead." "I have new batteries in.

The Romans feared their dead. In fact, Roman funeral customs derived from a need to propitiate the sensibilities of the departed. The very word funus may be translated as dead body, funeral ceremony, or murder. There was a genuine concern that, if not treated appropriately, the spirits of the dead, or manes, would return to wreak revenge

He could almost feel her spirit leaving him,see her runing gracefully across the stepping-stones made of stars into the land of the dead

Reflection?" "Yes, he is his reflection." "The spittin' image of--What was your dead friend's name?" "It is not to be spoken. He is dead, no? To say his name would not show respect. What is this to do with spit?

I can't imagine a decent maze that would be caught dead without a minotaur. It's not done! You don't go out of your house without any clothes on, and a minotaur doesn't go into the world without a labyrinth to keep him warm.

Thou mastering me God! giver of breath and bread; World's strand, sway of the sea; Lord of living and dead; Thou hast bound bones and veins in me, fastened me flesh, And after it almost unmade, what with dread, Thy doing: and dost thou touch me afresh? Over again I feel thy finger and find thee.

They say that life is about balance. That it trades one sorrow for one joy and so forth until it finds some kind of harmony. Well, I want none of it. I've never been as dead as I was when I was balanced. I don't want life to be contained. I want it unbound, inspired. Alive.

Glorious ancestors, is there still hope for us? Are we not completely dead? Can you see the future? I'm exhausted, nothing shields me from suffering, the way ahead is dark, and all I see makes hope phantasmagorical.

In this city [Palermo] . . . it's the souls of the dead who bring presents to the children. . . . We go to the cemetery to ask the dead for toys.

The powers of the world are shifting. Culture is becoming more relevant than politics. Cities more relevant than nations. Continents more relevant than nations. But continents less relevant than cities. Languages more relevant than nations. Languages are alive. Nations are dead. I should not be concerned about what is alive or dead. Yes, I should. I want what is alive - not what is dead - following what is dead delays my path.

The rolling stone rolls echoing from rock to rock; but the rolling stone is dead. The moss is silent because the moss is alive.

It's so funny, because right now I'm very tired and my brains a little dead, I tend to get very focused and serious. So, I'm probably coming off a lot more like Scully right now.

Vengeance for the murdered supposed the dead enjoyed sufficient afterlife to appreciate their efforts. The dead enjoyed nothing of the kind. The dead didn't go anywhere, except, if you were the monster who'd taken their lives and devoured them, into you.

Drifting on the black, rippling surface were fingers. Thumbs. Dozens of them. Hundreds, floating like dead fish in a dynamited pond. I saw part of an ear. The lights went out.

One's missing." Kazan was livid. He searched the dead faces and saw no sign of Anastasia Romanov. "The conniving little witch is gone.

Put on a fireman's uniform and walk past the fire because it's your lunch break, and you are dead. Grab a bucket and start throwing water over the blaze and you are seen to be God's little helper.

The spirits of the dead hallow a house, for me.

In your mercy, Lord, give them rest. When you come to judge the living and the dead, give them rest. Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord, And let perpetual light shine upon them; in your mercy, Lord. Give them rest.