Quotes About Death

As she began losing track of herself, she though it proper to inform a series of receding Lucettes - telling them to pass it on and on in a trick-crystal regression - that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude.

As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform... them... that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude.

if one were quite sincere with oneself, no conscience, and hence no consciousness, could be expected to subsist in a world where such things as Mira's death were possible.

It isn't possible. I cannot imagine it. Come on over here, you foolish little doe, and tell me on what day I shall die.

Tudod, a halálban az a legrettenetesebb, hogy az ember olyan tökéletesen magára marad.

The theme of the book is simple: a man is dying: you feel him sinking throughout the book; his thought and his memories pervade the whole with greater or lesser distinction (like the swell and fall of uneven breathing), now rolling up this image, now that, letting it ride in the wind, or even tossing it out on the shore, where it seems to move and live for a minute on its own and presently is drawn back again by grey seas where it sinks or is strangely transfigured.

The strange mirage-shimmer standing in for death should not appear too soon in the chronicle and yet it should permeate the first amorous scenes.

Death often is the point of life's joke.

I was on my knees, and on the point of possessing my darling, when two bearded bathers, the old man of the sea and his brother, came out of the sea with exclamations of ribald encouragement, and four months later she died of typhus in Corfu.

odr?bno?? stanowi jedn? z podstawowych cech ?ycia. Je?eli nie otacza nas pow?oka cielesna, musimy umrze?. Cz?owiek egzystuje tylko wtedy, kiedy jest odizolowany od otoczenia. Czaszka to nasz he?m kosmonauty. Musimy w niej tkwi?, bo w przeciwnym razie czeka nas zguba. ?mier? za? uwalnia i jednoczy. Chocia? przenikni?cie do natury mo?e si? wydawa? kusz?ce, oznacza ono zarazem koniec naszej kruchej to?samo?ci.

Wspomnienie nie dawa?o mu spokoju. Mo?na je by?o wytrzyma? przez chwil? i to tylko z perspektywy nieuleczalnej choroby, w wyra?nym przeczuciu nadchodz?cej ?mierci.

And since the exact form of her death had not been recorded, Mira kept dying a great number of deaths in one's mind, and undergoing a great number of resurrections, only to die again and again, led away by a trained nurse, inoculated with filth, tetanus bacilli, broken glass, gassed in a sham shower-bath with prussic acid, burned alive in a pit on a gasoline-soaked pile of beechwood.

My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three

La muerte no era otra cosa que una reunión más completa de los infinitos fragmentos de la soledad.

A thread of subtle pain, Tugged at by playful death, released again But always present, ran through me.

what's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own";

the compensation for a death sentence is knowledge of the exact hour when one is to die. A great luxury, but one that is well earned. However, I am being left in that ignorance which is tolerable only to those living at liberty

You know, what's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own

O my Carmen, my little Carmen! Something, something those something nights, And the stars, and the cars, and the bars, and the     barmen – And, O my charmin', our dreadful fights. And the something town where so gaily, arm in Arm, we went, and our final row, And the gun I killed you with, O my Carmen, The gun I am holding now. (Drew his .32 automatic, I guess, and put a bullet through his moll's eye.) Fourteen

I could not bring myself to touch him in order to make sure he was really dead. He looked it: a quarter of his face gone, and two flies beside themselves with a dawning sense of unbelievable luck.

She wrote poetry. She was poetically superstitious. She said she knew she would die soon after my sixteenth birthday, and did.

Si me llevan a la muerte, recuerden, cuando lo hagan, que sólo un arrebato de locura podría darme la fuerza bruta para comportarme como una bestia.

Lafontaine was wrong: Dead is the mandible, alive the song.

I do not know if it has ever been noted before that one of the main characteristics of life is discreteness. Unless a film of flesh envelops us, we die. Man exists only insofar as he is separated from his surroundings. The cranium is a spacetraveller's helmet. Stay inside or you perish. Death is divestment, death is communion. It may be wonderful to mix with the landscape, but to do so is the end of the tender ego