Quotes About Death

My fear is not death. I only fear GOD so as all of you should.

Nobody likes the phenomenon of death, and death hates the phenomenon of life

The only people who fear death are the ones who haven't lived.

How could we have been afraid of her? She was only dead. It's the living we fear.

I owe my last breath to death but not one breath more.

—and I say you still haven't answered my question, Father Bleu.""Haven't I, dear lady? I thought I stated that death is merely the beginning

I am profoundly fascinated by cruelty, fear, horror and death. My films show my preoccupation with violence, the pathology of violence.

What does it mean to be a self-conscious animal? The idea is ludicrous, if it is not monstrous. It means to know that one is food for worms.

To feed on death is to become food for death. To live by other's pain is to become a prey for pain. So has decreed the omni-will. Know that and choose your course !

Govern well thy appetite, lest Sin surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.

It's brutal out there. A bear will eat a lactating ewe alive, starting with her udders. as a rule, animals in the wild don't get good deaths surrounded by their loved ones.

A grudge is like being stung to death by one bee.

He may look on death with joy, who can look on forgiveness with faith.

Where there is no freedom, there is death and destruction.

We know the road to freedom has always been stalked by death.

All stories interest me, and some haunt me until I end up writing them. Certain themes keep coming up: justice, loyalty, violence, death, political and social issues, freedom.

If the Resurrection is resurrection from the dead, all hope and freedom are in spite of death.

The recovery of freedom is so splendid a thing that we must not shun even death when seeking to recover it.

Our job isn't to defend freedom of speech, but without freedom of speech we are dead. We can't live in a country without freedom of speech. I prefer to die than live like a rat.

Death smells like homemade applesauce as it cooks on the stove. It is not the strangling scent of illness. It is not fear. It is freedom.

Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, old age flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

As the fly bangs against the window attempting freedom while the door stands open, so we bang against death ignoring heaven.

Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of him whom time cannot console.

Alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know