Quotes About Death

Is that what death would feel like? The nicest, warmest, heaviest never-ending nap? If that's what it's like, I wouldn't mind.

I just think that funerals are a lot like death itself. You can have your wishes, your plans, but at the end of the day, it's out of your control.

Death, lonely death, Beneath the withered leaves.

He came with death held in his paw Which no rat born could face Oh woe to those who break the law Of Sunflash and his mace!

Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.

This world is nothing. An illusion. Death is the release.

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death; I am not on his pay-roll.

After that, how unbelievable death was! - that is must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.

In a word, neither death, nor exile, nor pain, nor anything of this kind is the real cause of our doing or not doing any action, but our inward opinions and principles.

Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings. [Lat., Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regumque turres.]

Death meant little to me. It was the last joke in a series of bad jokes.

What is ironic is that Allen Ginsberg's importance was in its twilight for so many years that it took his death to bring it to the front page. He electrified an entire world!

Death is the great gamer with a sleeve of tricks.

The birth of science was the death of superstition.

Death is there to keep us honest and constantly remind us we are free.

[The Catholic convent] had been like the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and there are white scars on my soul, where ignorance and superstition burnt me with their hell fire in those stifling days.

And, ah, who are you? What Horseman, I mean." Thanatos swung around. "Death." Cara swallowed. Audibly. "As in, the Grim Reaper?" He snorted. "That poser.

It Wasn't Hard To Follow The Scent Of Blood To The Living Room Where The Fae Had Been Killed. It Had Been A Violent Death, Perfect For Creating Ghosts.

And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.

So be my passing! My task accomplished and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gathered in the quiet west, The sundown splendid and serene, Death.

Beyond the grave they will find nothing but death. But we shall keep the secret, and for their happiness we shall allure them with the reward of heaven and eternity.

Death is just the moment that your hourglass runs out of sand. That's it. It happens to everyone eventually. All any of us gets to decide is where the sand falls.

Death is but a passage. It is not a house, it is only a vestibule. The grave has a door on its inner side.

Christ, because of who He is, can look death in the face.