Quotes About Death

Death strips all men of dignity.

I was very fierce and very driven at eighteen. But my basic philosophy I think has stayed the same, I'm still an atheist, I still believe strongly in the power of free will (despite the mysticism in my prose). I don't believe in the notion of a pre-ordained destiny, and I think because of the sudden death of my father at sixteen I learnt then that it is essential to live life to the fullest as it could be snatched away at any second.

The reaction to death is sometimes as violent as death itself. Shock throws a cautious coolness over your senses, but your stomach still has knots, your skin stings as if the Reaper is glaring at you as well.

And yesterday I saw you kissing tiny flowers, But all that lives is born to die. And so I say to you that nothing really matters, And all you do is stand and cry. I don't know what to say about it When all your ears are turned away, But now's the time to look and look again at what you see, Is that the way it ought to stay?

To think of the myriad ways that we live is to think of the ways that we die: Delinquent in our brains, in debt-- If we settle, then, our due account and walk through the forest, Will we finally be free?

Before me now there is only one real fact -- Death. The truth I have been seeking -- this truth is Death. Yet Death is also a seeker. Forever seeking me. So -- we have met at last. And I am prepared. I am at peace. Because I will conquer death with death.

Nobody heard the two shots, but plenty of people saw Warren's head explode, or felt the wet gore splatter them, or saw his headless body drop to the ground, blood pouring from his neck like a dropped carton of milk.

That's what Lipitor is for," he said as they reached the Explorer. She opened the driver's-side door. "I'll be sure to remember that line for your eulogy. It will get a big laugh.

Because it was a tool of death," she said, "and this is a place of purity, peace, and harmony.

Mr. Monk" I said "People have been sanctifying themselves with holy water for thousands of years" . "That explains the black death, among other things" Monk said "Wipe, Wipe, Wipe

Economy-size coffins for the living dead. Tin cans for the sardines of humanity. There wasn't a more heinous pairing of words in the English language

Eve looked at Greta and wondered if she was seeing her future, moving halfway across the country and spending her days cleaning up after death. Then again, wasn't that what she was doing now, only without the soap and sponge?

curriculum committee were not entirely wrong. Death is not a philosophical issue; it is a literary one. And yet, if philosophy

We use enough metal in caskets and underground vaults that we could rebuild the Golden Gate Bridge every January. The embalming fluid they pumped into my grandfather causes a higher incidence of leukemia and brain and colon cancer in funeral directors. The waste from the dead, along with embalming fluids, is pumped into the sewer, draining straight off the embalming table and down the drain, accompanied by the bleach that's used to disinfect the body.

People go to a hospital to get fixed up and then return home. But people generally go to a nursing home fully expecting to get worse and die

I didn't expect the book to sell in the first place. I was hoping for a quick and merciful death at the hands of reviewers but at the same time I sort of hoped that maybe someone would like it enough to give me encouragement. Public encouragement. I hoped for a little, as I said, but I got rather a whole lot, and in some ways this was just about as frightening as the quick, merciful death I'd expected.

Out of the rhythm and sound of the sea that beat through the orchestra, something moved--pressing toward death with quiet insistent joy--the thread through the maze--the soul behind the toil and the crime and longing.

said that when you die and go to heaven, you get your body back. I can finally get rid of this

Time is endless and ours. Love and Death are only the games we play in it.

Death was bleach and it burned away the stains, leaving nothing but white.

When you really deep down look at it, we go to bed every night, get up every morning, stay here for 70 or 80 years, and then we die.

New York's alright, if you want to freeze to death.

Some meet love's dreams when kissed by death, And some again in youth, But all have felt the quickening breath Of love's undying truth.

For death is but a passing phase of Life; A change of dress, a disrobing; A birth into the unborn again; A commencing where we ended; A starting where we stopped to rest; A crossroad of Eternity; A giving up of something, to possess all things. The end of the unreal, the beginning of the real.