Quotes About Death

Nat was by her, holding her hand, when she died.

When all was over, they buried the dead ancestor under piles of dirt, grass, leaves, or snow. Mammoths were even known to bury other dead animals, including humans.

I felt myself in a solitude so frightful that I contemplated suicide. What held me back was the idea that no one, absolutely no one, would be moved by my death, that I would be even more alone in death than in life.

The absurd man will not commit suicide; he wants to live, without relinquishing any of his certainty, without a future, without hope, without illusions … and without resignation either. He stares at death with passionate attention and this fascination liberates him. He experiences the "divine irresponsibility" of the condemned man.

Algo comienza para terminar; la aventura no admite añadiduras; sólo cobra sentido con su muerte. Hacia esta muerte, que acaso sea también la mía, me veo arrastrado irreversiblemente. Cada instante aparece para traer los siguientes. Me aferro a cada instante con toda el alma; sé que es único, irreemplazable, y, sin embargo, no movería un dedo para impedir su aniquilación.

Concha would cry when she found out I was dead, she should have no taste for life for months afterward. But I was still the one who was going to die. I thought of her soft, beautiful eyes. when she looked at me something passed her to me. But I knew it was over: if she looked at me now the look would stay in her eyes, it wouldn't reach me. I was alone

C'est tout pareil quand on a perdu l'illusion d'être eternel.

When a man hasn't the courage to kill himself wholesale, he must do so retail.' He would walk down to the water and say: 'Farewell to what I love most in the world...

Tiho sam išao ka svom kraju... siguran da ?e poslednji otkucaj mog srca biti utisnut na poslednjoj stranici mog rada i da ?e smrt uzeti samo ve? mrtvog ?oveka.

Ali ta sloboda pomalo li?i na smrt.

I have just related the story of a missed vocation: I needed God, He was given to me, I received Him without realizing that I was seeking Him. Failing to take root in my heart, He vegetated in me for a while, then He died. Whenever anyone speaks to me about Him today, I say, with the easy amusement of an old beau who meets a former belle: Fifty years ago, had it not been for that misunderstanding, that mistake, the accident that separated us, there might have been something between us.

Mourons : de tant d'horreurs qu'un trépas me délivre. Est-ce un malheur si grand que de cesser de vivre ? La mort aux malheureux ne cause point d'effroi : Je ne crains que le nom que je laisse après moi

Elle meurt dans mes bras d'un mal qu'elle me cache.

Nothing left but hopelessness.' Say die and I will die. Say die and watch me die.

I'd planned to die at thirty, and then I'd push it on ten years, forty, and then fifty, You always push it on. And then you go on and on and on. It's difficult. Too much trouble. I've thought about death a great deal. One day in the snow I felt so tired. I thought, 'Damn it, I'll sit down. I can't go on. I'm tired of living here in the snow and ice.' So I sat down on the ground. But it was so cold I got up. Oh yes, I used to try to imagine death, but I always come up against a wall.

People talk about the happy life, but that's the happy life when you don't care any longer if you live or die. You only get there after a long time and many misfortunes. And do you think you are left there? Never. As soon as you have reached this heaven of indifference, you are pulled out of it. From your heaven you have to go back to hell. When you are dead to the world, the world often rescues you, if only to make a figure of fun out of you.

That's all you're waiting for, isn't it? But no, you must have the slow death, the bloodless killing that leaves no stain on your conscience. . . .

When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...

I went up to him but he was not sick, he was dead and his eyes were black with flies. I ran away and did not speak of it for I thought if I told no one it might not be true.

There was a vase of flame-coloured tulips in the hall - surely the most graceful of flowers. Some thrust their heads forward like snakes, and some were very erect, stiff, virginal, rather prim. Some were dying, with curved grace in their death.

Shall I tell her that in spite of everything they did I died then? Shall I tell her what it feels like to be dead? It's not being sad, it's quite different. It's being nothing, feeling nothing. (...) it's like walking along a road in a fog, knowing that you have left everything behind you. But you don't want to go back; you've got to go on.

Desiderio, Odio, Vita, Morte erano terribilmente vicini nell'ombra

La mort m'eut semblé un moindre suicide

Prin angoasa în faÈ›a morÈ›ii experiment?m autenticitatea în cel mai înalt grad.