Quotes About Death

La vida es mi tortura y la muerte será mi descanso.

O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause

Los placeres violentos poseen finales violentos y tienen en su triunfo su propia muerte, del mismo modo en que se consumen el fuego y la pólvora en un beso voraz.

This world's a city full of straying streets, and death's the market-place where each one meets.

What is in that word honor? What is that honor? Air. A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. 'Tis insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it. Honor is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism.

William Shakespeare

Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. -Sonnet 73

and the rest is silence

Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, and thou no breath at all?

Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death's.

O hell! to choose love by another's eyes! Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lighting in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath pwer to say, 'Behold!' The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion.

These are the ushers of Martius: before him He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears. Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie, Which being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.

To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life.

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with!

Murder most foul, as in the best it is. But this most foul, strange and unnatural.

O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.

Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine.

But, orderly to end where I begun: Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. So think thou wilt no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

and when he dies, cut him out in little stars, and the face of heaven will be so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no heed to the garish sun.

And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life And thou no breath at all? O thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never.

But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?