Quotes About Death

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 space-traveler'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.

Life is a great sunrise. I do not see why death should not be a greater one.

Ma l'ultimissimo giro di pista della sua vita era stato felice e gli aveva dimostrato come la morte non sia altro che una questione di stile.

Alone, unknown, unloved, I die...and the room had grown a ghostly thorax, with a heart unknown, unloved - but not alone

The Tolstoyan formula is: Ivan lived a bad life and since the bad life is nothing but the death of the soul, then Ivan lived a living death; and since beyond death is God's living light, then Ivan died into a new life—Life with a capital L.

neither being accustomed to his new fleshiness and insistence to sleep on one side only, so as not to hear his heart: he had made the mistake one night in 1920 of calculating the maximal number of its remaining beats (allowing for another half-century), and now the preposterous hurry of the countdown irritated him and increased the rate at which he could hear himself dying.

I learned for the first but by no means the last time about the power of acceptance of life and death.

I don't think anyone's Self 2 needs improvement from birth to death. It has always been fine. I, more than anyone, need to remember that. Yes, our backhands can improve, and I'm sure my writing can get better; certainly our skills in relating to each other on the planet can improve. But the cornerstone of stability is to know that there is nothing wrong with the essential human being.

Tell all my mourners To mourn in red- Cause there ain't no sense In my bein' dead.

We buried him high on a windy hill, But his soul went out to sea. I know, for I heard, when all was still, His sea-soul say to me: Put no tombstone at my head, For here I do not make my bed. Strew no flowers on my grave, I've gone back to the wind and wave. Do not, do not weep for me, For I am happy with my sea.

Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.

Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.

It is the fear of death--24/7 in every shade of hospital white and doomsday black--that sells the pharmaceutical, political, financial, film, and food product promising to make good the wish to live forever.

About the presence of death and dying I don't remember the society in the 1950s being so skittish as it has since become. People still died at home, among relatives and friends, often in the care of a family physician. Death was still to be seen sitting in the parlor, hanging in a butcher shop, sometimes lying in the street.

He was the ghost you never saw coming, death breathing down your neck before you even realized you were in the crosshairs.

Another idiotic tradition, Regina thought. To eat and drink in memory of the departed. There was something gross about it. As if they were taunting the dead person. Hey, you're dead and gone, but life goes on, and look how well we're all eating.

And, ah, who are you? What Horseman, I mean." Thanatos swung around. "Death." Cara swallowed. Audibly. "As in, the Grim Reaper?" He snorted. "That poser.

leave it to him to get messed up with deaths little girl

Funny how Boris wasn't the monster who came alive in her scariest night terrors. No, the title of Nightmare King belonged to the male looming like a death sentence in front of her, a gorgeous sandy-haired vampire in worn, bloodstained jeans and a loaded weapons harness beneath a long leather coat. A male named Riker who, twenty years ago, had killed Terese. His own mate .

Thanatos swung around. "Death." Cara swallowed. Audibly. "As in, the Grim Reaper?" He snorted. "That poser. He deals with evil souls.

He's only mostly dead." She wrenched her head around to see Azagoth striding towards them, a trail of griminions on his heels. "M-mostly dead?" "Haven't you ever seen The Princess Bride?" It took her a second to realize he was making a joke. Mr.Serious, the Grim Fucking Reaper,was joking.

Who am I?" he asked, his voice dragging the very pits of Hell. "I'm death, and I've come for you, asshole.

There's very little that frightens me more than the Grim Reaper when he's horny.

When we die, we get put right back on earth to live our miserable existences over and over and over for all eternity.