Quotes About Death

When it seems you have nothing at all to live for, death is not especially frightening.

Our essence is change. We are movement. Being out of balance is life. Perfect balance. Stasis. That is death. Life yearns for perfection. Death is perfection.

Life is the ultimate adventure, and Death, the prize that awaits us all.

I can still see her face -- The sorrow in her eyes, her voice, as she condemns me. I didn't know it was possible to feel such shame. To feel so sick at heart. I'm lost inside, my soul -- all that I thought I was, and am, and ever will be -- shattered, cast to the winds. Compared to this, death is a mercy.

In my world death will come chasing. In your world it will start whispering in your ear to destroy yourself. I know this because it started whispering to me when I was in the detention center.

Women fall differently, that's all. We die by the stopping of our hearts, they by the insistence of theirs.

When death comes you do not stay for one minute in the place it has visited. Many things arrive after death-sadness, questions, and policemen- and none of these can be answered when your papers are not in order.

It was depression that killed Andrew, of course - depression and guilt. But my son didn't believe in death, let alone in the capacity of mere emotions to cause it.

Yu can't live if yu dead, neither. Yu probly too smart to get dat.

The mourners clustered around the edge of the grave, paralyzed by the horror of this thing, this first discovery of death that was worse than the death itself.

But that is the way with killers, I suppose. What is the end of all innocence for you is just another Tuesday morning for them, and they walk off back to their planet of death giving no more thought to the world of the living that we would give to any other tourist destination: a place to be briefly visited and returned from with souvenirs and a haunting sensation that we could have paid less for them.

It is good to live like this. Once you are ready to die, you do not suffer so badly from the horror.

They found my husband with his feet treading empty air, touching the soil of no country. Death, of course, is a refuge. It's where you go when a new name, or a mask and cape, can no longer hide you from yourself. It's where you run to when none of the principalities of your conscience will grant you asylum.

How could he even attempt it, after eight days and nights of bombing? And yet this is when he must write: now, in the lull between attacks...War made one do everything when one wasn't at all ready. Dying, yes, but also living.

Death, finally, was British; life chaotic and foreign. The

Death, of course, is a refuge. It's where you go when a new name, or a mask and cape, can no longer hide you from yourself. It's where you run to when none of the principalities of your conscience will grant you asylum.

did not cry when they killed my sister but I did cry when I heard the music coming out of the soldiers' truck because I was thinking, That is my sister's favorite song and she will never hear it again.

A student asked me recently why somebody always dies in my books. I said, because somebody is always dying in my life.

Jackson would also receive what was probably the first presidential death threat the following year, over his refusal to pardon two men: "You damned old scoundrel . . . I will cut your throat while you are sleeping," and a later sentence that ended with the phrase "burnt at the stake in Washington." Its author was an actor, destined for less notoriety than his son, Junius Brutus Booth.

Everyone wants to believe in something that will make their mundane lives more bearable and their inevitable death less … final.

if we don't rebel, if we're not physically in an active rebellion, then it's spiritual death.

Accidents in the mountains are less common than in the lowlands, and these mountain mansions are decent, delightful, even divine, places to die in, compared with the doleful chambers of civilization. Few

he understood there was no way to escape Time, and that this moment he had been granted to watch as a child, which had never ceased to obsess him, was the moment of his own death.

The dead are apparitions that both haunt and guide us. And maybe they've earned it. Most times, they can teach us our own history better than any book.