Quotes About Death

Life begins before a soul is born and commences once again with the act of dying, and as in the Afro-Asian symbol of the snake of eternity swallowing its tail, all is in flux, all comes full circle, with no beginning and no end.

Huntin too hard for the truth ain't a good idea, y'know," he added. "By the time you stumble over it, it ain't the truth no more. Unless there's death in it. I reckon death is about as close to truth as a man can come.

I nod to Death in passing, aware of the sound of my own feet upon my path. The

And it is a profound consolation, perhaps the only one, to this haunted animal that wastes most of a long and ghostly life wandering the future and the past on its hind legs, looking for meanings, only to see in the eyes of others of its kind that it must die.

free life" as described by a mountaineer: "The mountains had been a natural field of activity where, playing on the frontiers of life and death, we had found the freedom for which we were blindly groping and which was as necessary to us as breath.

All worldly pursuits have but the one unavoidable and inevitable end, which is sorrow: acquisitions end in dispersion; buildings, in destruction; meetings, in separation; births, in death. Knowing this, one should from the very first renounce acquisition and heaping-up, and building and meeting, and . . . set about realizing the Truth. . . . Life is short, and the time of death is uncertain; so apply yourselves to meditation. . . .3 Meditation

One minute he was packing in grub like Judas Priest at the Last Supper and the next he was felled like a stockyard beef, that's how quick Death had him, his mouth oozing sweet potato like the hind end of a turkey packed with stuffing.

Upon the path, in the glint of mica and odd shining stones, lies the yellow and gray-blue feather of an unknown bird. And there comes a piercing intuition, by no means understood, that in this feather on the silver path, this rhythm of wood and leather sounds, breath, sun and wind, and rush of river, in a landscape without past or future time—in this instant, in all instants, transience and eternity, death and life are one.

The shadow of sharks is the shadow of death, and they call forth dim ultimate fears. Yet there is something holy in their silence.

DEATH BY CHINA Confronting the Dragon—A Global Call to Action

Tomorrow I'm going to Wong's, and I'm going to listen to the music of my own lack of thoughts. / Go, Gus says. Nobody's stopping you. / You don't see the beauty? Walt says. / Beauty of what? History of what? Alf says. / Everything. Shoelaces, farts, love, death, cantaloupes--all I have to do is remember. [Walt Kaplan/13 Gus's Highland Spa]

Answers to all the problems that there are, Except the love that kills, the death that lives.

Murder is the one crime that can't be put right. It upsets the balance. The dead can't be restored like stolen property; death doesn't heal like physical or emotional scars left by assault or rape. It's final. The end...

A cadaveric spasm had caused Rothwell to grab and hold onto a handful of dust at the moment of death, and Banks thought of the T.S. Eliot quotation, "I will show you fear in a handful of dust," which he had come across as the title of an Evelyn Waugh novel.

Our glorious warrior Jason is probably lying on some mortuary table, cut open from th'nave to th'chops as we speak, and the three bastards who put him there, the three brown bastards who put him there, are out walking the streets." He slammed the table again. "What do you think about that?

Murder scenes in particular got them going: sex and death, the old aphrodisiac combination.

Fool, he told himself. He had been looking for Keith Rothwell in Robert Calvert's flat. But he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere; he was just a slab of chilled meat waiting for a man with his collar on the wrong way around to chant a few meaningless words that might just ease the living's fear of death until the next time it touched too close to home for comfort.

When your friends and lovers start dying, you begin to feel as if you have only narrowly escaped the reaper yourself, and that it's only a matter of time. Which, of course, it is. In the meantime, there's a version of survivor's guilt to deal with.

A faith that can only exist in the light of victory and certainty is one which really affirms the self while pretending to affirm Christ, for it only follows Jesus in the belief that Jesus has conquered death. Yet a faith that can look at the horror of the cross and still say 'yes' is one that says 'no' to the self in saying 'yes' to Christ.

the English lost at most 500 men, including only two lords, the Earl of Suffolk and the Duke of York. Shakespeare's Exeter gives these two noblemen a brilliant chivalric epitaph; history, however, adds its usual sour note by pointing out that York perished, not by the sword, but by suffocation or a heart attack after falling off his horse. He was quite fat.

He remembered the faces of his friends, bereft poor corpses, abandoned of life.

Charlie Carpenter rang Lily Sheehan's bell, and when she opened the door he gave her a blue rose. This stands for dying, for death. My daddy met the man who grew them, and when the man tried to run away my daddy shot him in the back.

Every death even the cruelest death drowns in the total indifference of Nature Nature herself would watch unmoved if we destroyed the entire human race I hate Nature this passionless spectator this unbreakable iceberg-face that can bear everything this goads us to greater and greater acts

We're all free and equal to die like dogs