Quotes About Dead

You aren't dead," she said. "No. You aren't dead either," said Iggy irritably. "How about just 'hello'?

many people are surprised to hear that there are comedians in Russia, but they are there. They're dead, but they're there.

And he was probably right. Unless Hills Village Middle School had a witness protection program, I was dead meat. Man, I hated Miller.

I have a karaoke punk band called The Ungrateful Dead, but we don't exist yet.

Nostalgia for dead tyrants and the longing for heroes are unhealthy, and they can result in the deification of a Saddam as easily as a Havel or Mandela.

The main thing people took from 'Night of the Living Dead' was that it was a racial statement movie, and that was completely unintended.

I can hardly tell you how boring it is to interview almost every politician among the multitudes I have ever interviewed (journalists can't say this, because if people knew how boring politicians were they wouldn't read what we write), how dead the conversation feels, how bald, flat, uninteresting the message is.

Back then, in 1968, everything was suspect - family, government, and obviously the family unit in 'Night of the Living Dead' completely collapses. That's what we were focused on.

It is on the acceptance or rejection of the theory of the Unity of all in Nature, in its ultimate Essence, that mainly rests the belief or unbelief in the existence around us of other conscious beings besides the Spirits of the Dead.

In the forensic science course I took at university they used photographs of dead bodies. For ballistics they showed us a guy lying on the floor, and his head had burst.

Women hope that the dead love may revive; but men know that of all dead things none are so past recall as a dead passion.

See that you buy the field where the Pearl is; sell all, and make a purchase of salvation. Think it not easy: for it is a steep ascent to eternal glory: many are lying dead by the way, slain with security.

Mindful of th' unhonor'd dead.

The praise of ancient authors proceeds not from the reverence of the dead, but from the competition and mutual envy of the living.

'Twas now the very witching time of night, When churchyards groan, and graves give up their dead, And many a mischievous, enfranchised sprite Had long since burst his bonds of stone or lead, And hurried off, with schoolboy-like delight, To play his pranks near some poor wretch's bed, Sleeping, perhaps serenely as a porpoise, Nor dreaming of this fiendish Habeas Corpus.

The Apparition paused, and would have spoke... But then a neighbouring chanticleer awoke... —'Tis known how much dead gentlefolks eschew The appalling sound of "Cock-a-doodle-do!"

Hearken well: "None of us wants to hear spoken the exact anxieties we keep locked up inside ourselves. Smother that urge to go spreading news of your pain and nightmares around town. Bury your dead but don't leave a trace. And be sure to get on with things or we will get on without you.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Past events are described in a fictitious manner, future events are described as they will indeed occur, unless they are disrupted by historical agitators, which is beyond the author's control. For now.

Arguing with one who will not accept facts is like administering medicine to the dead.

Happiness is an imaginary condition, formerly attributed by the living to the dead, now usually attributed by adults to children, and by children to adults.

Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

We ourselves shall be loved for awhile and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

It won't snow on us," I told my hiking companions, "because I lead a good and virtuous life." "We're dead," Dave Long said.