Quotes About Death

Here lies Horace Benbow in a fading series of small stinking spots on a Mississippi sidewalk

When I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind - and that of the minds of the ones who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it is the end; the fundamentalists, the beginning; when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or a town.

Meet Mrs. Bundren

But that competitor was Death, and Roger Shumann lost.

I could just remember how my father used to say that the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead a long time. And

Addie: My father said that the reason for living is getting ready to stay dead.

Je me rappelais que mon père avait coutume de dire que le but de la vie c'est de se préparer à rester mort très longtemps.

Anyway, there is a certain integral consistency which, whether it be right or wrong, a man must cherish because it alone will ever permit him to die.

It's not men who cope with death; they resist, try to fight back and get their brains trampled out in consequence; where women just flank it, envelop it in one soft and instantaneous confederation of unresistance like cotton batting or cobwebs, already de-stingered and harmless, not merely reduced to size and usable but even useful like a penniless bachelor or spinster connection always available to fill an empty space or conduct an extra guest down to dinner.

It takes two people to make you, and one people to die. That's how the world is going to end.

The dead air shapes the dead earth in the dead darkness, further away than seeing shapes the dead earth. It lies dead and warm upon me, touching me naked through my clothes. I said You dont know what worry is. I dont know what it is. I dont know whether I am worrying or not. Whether I can or not. I dont know whether I can cry or not. I dont know whether I have tried to or not. I feel like a wet seed wild in the hot blind earth.

É preciso duas pessoas para fazer alguém, e uma para morrer. É assim que o mundo vai acabar.

I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind--and that of the minds of the ones who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it is the end; the fundamentalists, the beginning; when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or a town.

Hasta me acuerdo de cómo, cuando yo era joven, creía que la muerte era un fenómeno del cuerpo; sin embargo, ahora sé que no es más que una función de la mente: una función de las mentes de quienes sufren la pérdida. Los nihilistas dicen que la muerte es el final; los funcionalistas, que el comienzo; pero en realidad no es más que un simple inquilino o familia que deja su habitación o su ciudad.

I suppose the question to ask you, is where you been all the time you were dead?

é preciso duas pessoas para fazer alguém, e uma para morrer. é assim que o mundo vai acabar.

Gal b?tent t? akimirk?, kai mes suprantame, sutinkame su tuo, kad egzistuoja blogio logika, mes ir numirštame.

Babam?n insanlar uzun zaman ölü kalabilmeye haz?rlanmak için yaÅŸarlar dediÄŸi akl?ma geldi.

I guess we all know somebody like him, talk him out of suicide till the day one of you finally dies in bed like talking to yourself most of the time . . .

Otherwise, he'd have found the ruin empty, and then, somehow, very quietly and almost naturally, he would have died.

It was such an easy thing, death. He saw that now: It just happened. You screwed up by a fraction and there it was, something chill and odorless, ballooning out from the four stupid corners of the room, your mother's Barrytown living room.

Biz here was a constant subliminal hum, and death the accepted punishment for laziness, carelessness, lack of grace, the failure to heed the demands of an intricate protocol

The lane to the land of the dead. Where you are, my friend. Marie-France, my lady, she prepared this road, but her lord choked her off before I could read the book of her days. Neuro from the nerves, the silver paths. Romancer. Necromancer. I call up the dead. But no, my friend, and the boy did a little dance, brown feet printing the sand, I am the dead, and their land. He laughed. A gull cried, Stay. If your woman is a ghost, she doesn't know it. Neither will you. Neuromancer

Because she was dead, and I'd let her go. Because, now, she was immortal, and I'd helped her get that way. And because I knew she'd phone me, in the morning.