Quotes About Death

When life's summer grows to winter And its roses fade and fall; When in vain we try to hinder Death's commissioned right to all; When on white lips there's a last kiss And we see her face no more, Then it is to know what love is, Waiting on a foreign shore.

And death, that sits in marble silence cold, Will furnish hope to those who may behold The meaning in the everlasting change Of all that dies, returning, wondrous strange.

Every dead hope is a phantom that grimaces over its tomb.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature. It's true: They rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. Lazarus obeying orders and climbing up out of the grave - now there's a miracle, and you can bet it upset a lot of folks who were standing around at the time. When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of the earth.

When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of earth.

Birthing takes nine months, and dying takes you all the rest of your life.

Death is not regarded as a natural affair by primitive man. Death is believed to be due to the intervention of some malevolent or at least not well disposed power. Normally it should not take place. So we have all through history crude explanations of death, as e.g., the influence of the serpent, the devil, sin.

Death is an inevitability, isn't it? You become more aware of that when you get to my age. I don't worry about it. I'm ready for it. When I go, I want to go doing what I do best. If I died tomorrow, I couldn't complain. It's been good.

It is most likely that I will die next to a pile of books I was meaning to read.

Announcing your death should be like announcing that you are a lunar moth: It must be done quietly or it will not be believed.

For Beatrice, when we met, my life began. Soon afterwards, yours ended.

To Beatrice- My love flew like a butterfly Until death swooped down like a bat As the poet Emma Montana McElroy said: 'That's the end of that

Wherever there's a conductor, you're sure to find a dead composer!

Everybody will die, of course, sooner or later. Circus performers will die, and clarinet experts will die, and you and I will die, and there might be a person who lives on your block, right now, who is not looking both ways before he crosses the street and who will die in just in a few seconds, all because of a bus. Everybody will die, but very few people want to be reminded of that fact.

I had a list of ways I would prefer to die. Drowning was toward the bottom of the list. My top choice was "never.

We'll see what you find out," Stew said. "You'll find out what it feels like to be thrown from a speeding train to the rocky bottom of a drained sea. Except you won't really find out, because you'll be dead. Get it? What I mean is, it'll kill you when I throw you from this train so you'll be in no state to find out what it feels like. Get it? Due to your death by falling from a train.

Everybody will die, of course, sooner or later. Circus performers will die, and clarinet experts will die, and you and I will die, and there might be a person who lives on your block, right now, who is not looking both ways before he crosses the street and who will die in just a few seconds, all because of a bus. Everybody will die, but very few people want to be reminded of that fact. The

A morning breeze blew through the campus of Prufrock Preparatory School, rustling the brown lawn and knocking against the stone arch with the motto printed on it. "Memento Mori"-"Remember you will die." The Baudelaire orphans looked up at the motto and vowed that before they died, they would solve this dark and complicated mystery that cast a shadow over their lives.

I'm afraid the engine is quite dead," Mr. Poe called out. "And before long," Stephano muttered to the children, "you will be too." "I'm sorry," Mr. Poe said. "I couldn't hear you.

Each meal you eat is poison, because the food is just moving you through the world and the end of your time in it. Dinner is poison, and lunch. Brunch and eleveneses and both afternoon and bedtime snacks are poison, and so is breakfast the next morning, all these meals bringing us closer and closer to death.

Ô Mort, vieux capitaine, il est temps! levons l'ancre! Ce pays nous ennuie, ô Mort! Appareillons! Si le ciel et la mer sont noirs comme de l'encre, Nos coeurs que tu connais sont remplis de rayons!

Don't be afraid to feel as angry or as loving as you can, because when you feel nothing, it's just death.

I feel bad for people who die on Valentine's Day. How much would flowers cost then? Ten grand?

Supporters of Osama bin Laden want to rename the Arabian Sea after bin Laden's death. They want to call it "Martyr's Sea." Please, hiding in your bedroom for six years with the blinds closed? How about "Chicken of the Sea?"