Quotes About Death

How could you speak of life and death with such a heart? How could you preach of heaven and hell in such a careless, sleepy manner? Do you believe what you say? Are you in earnest or in jest? How can you tell people that sin is such a thing, and that so much misery is upon them and before them and not be more affected with it? Shouldn't you weep over such a people, and shouldn't your tears interrupt your words?

Hey, do you know what happens to a liar when he dies? He lies still, Jack!

He was dead. Even with practice he would never be any deader.

T. S. Eliot told Auden tht the reason he played patience night after night was that it was the nearest thing to being dead.

Henry believes he knows exactly when the ninety-four-year-old woman in the neighbouring apartment dies. He hears her turn off. Until now he has not been able to distinguish her from her appliances – her washing machine, her vacuum cleaner, her radiators, her television. But the moment she gives up the ghost he detects the cessation of a noise of which he was not previously aware. A hum, was it? A whirr? Impossible to say. There is no word for the sound a life makes.

You may have been corrupted into thinking that you are important. If so you are a lost creature waiting for the world to come to you. An actress's whole life can be ruined if she expects life to come to her. Tell yourself that the world is outside, that it's not to be hidden from you, that you are going to thrust yourself forward and be relaxed in the world. You have chosen a field where you're going to be hurt to the blood. But to retreat from the pain is death.

All reality is iconoclastic. The earthly beloved, even in this life, incessantly triumphs over your mere idea of her. And you want her to; you want her with all her resistances, all her faults, all her unexpectedness. That is, in her foursquare and independent reality. And this, not any image or memory, is what we are to love still; after she is dead.

That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.

Sometimes there is only a sixty-second divide between youth and maturity, childhood and adulthood, strength and weakness, life and death. That life is vulnerable is the key to its longevity.

You know, I've seen a lot of people walkin' 'round With tombstones in their eyes But the pusher don't care Ah, if you live or if you die.

Taxidermia. Art forms come in many ways, but nothing conveys a psychopathic outlook more then stuffing your dead pet.

On the basis of biological, sociological, and historical knowledge, we should recognize that the individual self is subject to death or decay, but the sum total of individual achievement, for better or worse, lives on in the immortality of The Larger.

Being an artist doesn't take much. Just everything you got. Which means of course that as the process is giving you life, it is also bringing you closer to death. But it's no big deal. They are one in the same and cannot be avoided or denied. So when I totally embrace this process, this life/death, and abandon myself to it completely, I transcend all this gibberish and hang out with the gods. It seems to me that that is worth the price of admission.

I have joined an ancient fraternity. I have killed a man.

For weeks Tyrone thought he was going to die any minute, and there were also times when he was afraid he wasnt going to die.

I started to die 36 hours before I was born, so dying was a way of life for me.

But I knew that someday I was going to die. And just before I died two things would happen; Number 1: I would regret my entire life. Number 2: I would want to live my life over again.

On the whole, however, it is not our own liability to death which oppresses us. The fear of it to a brave man, not to speak of a man of faith, can be overcome. It is the fear of it for others whom we love, which is its sting.

Fear, which blights life and darkens death, is killed by love, as the cloud is dispersed by the sunshine.

I'm very comfortable with the nature of life and death, and that we come to an end. What's most difficult to imagine is that those dreams and early yearnings and desires of childhood and adolescence will also disappear. But who knows? Maybe you become part of the eternal whatever.

My father I liked, but it was only after his death that I got to know him by writing the play.

Death suddenly seemed unimportant and life seemed everything

Competitiveness always rests on the assumption of a life-and-death struggle.

Gandalf faced and suffered death; and came back or was sent back, as he says, with enhanced power. But though one may be in this reminded of the Gospels, it is not really the same thing at all. The Incarnation of God is an infinitely greater thing than anything I would dare to write. Here I am only concerned with Death as part of the nature, physical and spiritual, of Man, and with Hope without guarantees. Letter 181 To Michael Straight [drafts]