Quotes About Death

I'd wanted to escape history by running to the hawk. Forget the darkness, forget Göring's hawks, forget death, forget all the things that had been before. But my flight was wrong. Worse than wrong. It was dangerous. I must fight, always, against forgetting.

The hawk was a fire that burned my hurts away. There could be no regret or mourning in her. No past or future. She lived in the present only, and that was my refuge. My flight from death was on her barred and beating wings. But I had forgotten that the puzzle that was death was caught up in the hawk, and I was caught up in it too.

I feel like a tableau at a roadside shrine. But I'm not sure what the shrine is for. I'm a roadside phenomenon. I am death to community. I am missing the point.

Goshawks are things of death and blood and gore, but they are not excuses for atrocities. Their inhumanity is to be treasured because what they do has nothing to do with us at all.

cannot remember that my heart stopped beating at any particular time,' he wrote in his diary. 'The blow was so stunning, so final after six weeks of unremitting faith, that it was tempered to me as being beyond my appreciation. Death will be like this, something too vast to hurt much or perhaps even to upset me.' His

The borders between life and death are somewhere in the taking of their meal. I couldn't let that suffering happen. Hunting makes you animal, but the death of an animal makes you human. Kneeling next to the hawk and her prey, I felt a responsibility so huge that it battered inside my own chest, ballooning out into a space the size of a cathedral.

White called Prisonface to life in order that he should suffer, be punished, mocked, reduced to rags and die.

A corpse is seldom attractive.

Courtrooms (can) be exciting arenas where combating attorneys (fight) out issues of life and death, but there (is) nothing exciting about a courtroom where tired old loves (go) to die, or to be exhumed for delayed post-mortem.

The girl was lighter without her heart. She danced barefoot on the hot roads, and her feet were not cut by the glass or stones that studded her way. She spoke to the dead whenever they visited her. She tried to be kind, but they realised that they no longer had anything in common with her, and she realised it, too. So they went their separate ways.

There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty. But who finds happiness interesting? One day the woman stamped her foot and wished her man dead. So he died. (And now you know what a Yoruba woman can be like sometimes.)

So Mr. Pizarsky had been a poet? That was how he'd said it: "I was a poet." As if the poet had died. He was hiding, perhaps.

It sort of rocks you . . . reading it is sort of like reading from a cradle hung up in the trees, and the trees rock you with such sorrow, and as the volume turns up you realize that the trees are rocking you whilst deciding whether to let you live or die, and they're sorry because they've decided to smash you to pieces . . ." "But

When the soul is dead and the body is the only concern, there's not much to get excited about...the only thing alive for me now is our literature.

The tsar twice went to visit Stolypin again, but on both occasions Stolypin's wife Olga, blaming him for the attack, refused to allow Nicholas to see him.45 On 5 September Stolypin died of sepsis and Olga Stolypina declined to accept the tsar's condolences. With martial law declared in Kiev and 30,000 troops on alert, fears spread of an anti-Jewish pogrom in retaliation, prompting many of the Jewish residents to flee the city.

Tal vez parezca que el mundo te causa dolor. 2 Sin embargo, al no tener causa, no tiene el poder de ser la causa de nada. 3 Al ser un efecto, no puede producir efectos. 4 Al ser una ilusión, es lo que tú deseas que sea. 5 Tus vanos deseos constituyen sus pesares. 6 Tus extraños anhelos dan lugar a sus sueños de maldad. 7 Tus pensamientos de muerte lo envuelven con miedo, mientras que en tu benévolo perdón halla vida.

Death yields to life simply because destruction is not true.

Her soul died that night under a radiant silver moon in the spring of 1918 on the side of a blood-spattered trench. Around her lay the mangled dead and the dying. Her body was untouched, her heart beat calmly, the blood coursed as ever through her veins. But looking deep into those emotionless eyes one wondered if they had suffered much before the soul had left them. Her face held an expression of resignation, as though she had ceased to hope that the end might come.

I don't think kids have a problem with death. It's us older ones who are nearer to it, that start being frightened.

They started bringing our babies out in those sheets and they laid them by my feet. They started making a line of them.

Thanatos, der alles wusste, stieg in Erwartung des Kommenden die Niederenslinger Hügel hinauf zum Plateau, suchte einen Baumstrunk, setzte sich und wartete. Er trug einen schwarzen Aktenkoffer bei sich, der alle Geduld der Welt enthielt.

I am not afraid of dying. I have lived longer than most people in the world. What scares me is to have a body that works but a brain that is waving goodbye. If that happens, I hope I die quickly.

I've got all the money I'll ever need, if I die by four o'clock.

Two armies fighting each other are like one big army that commits suicide.