Quotes About Death

If this is dying, then I don't think much of it.

A person can only be born in one place.However, he may die several times elsewhere: in the exiles and prisons, and in a homeland transformed by the occupation and oppression into a nightmare.Poetry is perhaps what teaches us to nurture the charming illusion: how to be reborn out of ourselves over and over again, and use words to construct a better world, a fictitious world that enables us to sign a pact for a permanent and comprehensive peace... with life.

The dead are jealous, jealous, jealous and they will do anything to keep you from the living, the lucky living. They will argue with you, and distract you, and if that doesn't work, they will even let you hug them, and dance for you, and kiss you, and laugh, anything to keep you. The dead are selfish. Jealous. Lonely. Desperate. Hungry. ("The Chambered Fruit")

All life is death. You don't fool yourself about this anymore. You slash at the perfect canvas with strokes of paint and replace the perfect picture of your imagination with the reality of what you are capable of. From death, and sorrow, and compromise, you create. This is what it means, you finally realize, to be alive. ("The Chambered Fruit")

Everyone is in a process of spiritual formation. We are being shaped into either the wholeness of the image of Christ or a horribly destructive caricature of that image--destructive not only to ourselves but also to others, for we inflict our brokenness upon them . . . The direction of our spiritual growth infuses all we do with intimations of either Life or Death.

NE OF THE MOST FAMOUS ARSENICAL POISONING cases on record (which could never be emphatically proven beyond a reasonable doubt) is, of course, that of Napoleon Bonaparte, who was said to have been poisoned to death with arsenic over a period of time by one (or several) of his own men. Regardless

There is living and there is death," the Emperor said. "Pain is irrelevant unless it leads to the latter.

Too, did I do anything in as poor taste as die here, Chester would be sorely vexed, and I had no desire to catch a minatory lecture from him on the subject. He had access now to an entire library of arcana; surely there would be some volume on the summoning of ghosts if I had the poor taste to expire before he could reach me to deliver it.

Goddess," Vasiht'h whispered, feeling cold all over. "What have I gotten involved in?" "Nothing less than the life or death struggle of an entire race," Sediryl said, lifting her parasol back to her shoulder. "Exciting isn't it?

Would you rather be hungry or dead?

before there was a death there had been a life, and before that life a death and that there would be a life after this death too. The circles would continue on without end and everyone who was once connected would be connected again.

Hosiah Lister, now dead, rec'd his freedom.

It does not take long to die, nor to kill. A life is present or absent, and it is an instant passed between those extremities.

When he was dead, his body was cremated. The remains were thrown in a ditch marked "Common Grave Number One — unclaimed ashes 1930–42 inclusive.

Just within the limits of besieged Leningrad, there where days when more than ten thousand people died. Over the course of January and February alone, there were roughly two hundred thousand deaths. We cannot know the numbers exactly. All authority in the city had broken down. No one recorded deaths anymore. No one removed the bodies from the streets.

Beyond fatigue, there was another good reason to delay taking the dead out of an apartment: until the death was declared, the family could still collect rations in the name of the deceased.

It was still dangerous to disagree with Stalin. This fact was disastrous for the war effort. His generals were terrified of telling him bad news; it was safer to lie. For the first several months of the Great Patriotic War, therefore, he often didn't know the real strategic situation. Even worse, military experts couldn't question his amateur civilian judgment without fear of death.

Everyone who was born had to die; those who died would be reborn again. The killer and the slain: these were terms that had no meaning. The soul could never be destroyed. The soul discards a worn-out body for a new one as human beings discard old clothes for new, said Krishna, and there was nothing in this to grieve about.

Death to the bourgeois on his knees, smelling of religion and not believing in God!

Se hizo de noche. Las campanadas de la iglesia a los lejos la aclararon. Había olvidado su propia muerte.

preferi dormir, que é um modo interino de morrer.

We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love.

Their great fear was not death, but the brevity of an insufficient life.

It was a time of chaos, of bombs and floods, when love songs streamed from the radios and wept down the streets. Music sustained weddings, births, rituals, work, marching, boredom, confrontation and death; music and stories, even in times like these, were a refuge, a passport, everywhere.