Quotes About Death

There are days when everything feels like a metaphor for your having died There are days when nothing does

Springtime brings the consolation of hope. It gives the assurance that death has lost its sting. There is beauty in this hope and this assurance. There is beauty in the woman whose chemo-induced baldness, unswaddled, shines like a pearl, in the man whose palsy makes him shimmy like a Spanish dancer. There is beauty in their defiance and their acceptance. There is beauty in their standing in the hope that death can't steal or destroy.

The enemy casts a shadow, big and dark and menacing. But there's no substance behind it. It has a stinger, but it's lost its venom. It has a bark, but no bite. We'll all suffer death in the lowercase. But by Christ's good graces, no one need suffer death in the uppercase. Death at that scale has been undone. Death still has battalions on the ground, pitching battle, making havoc, quibbling and collaborating among themselves. But the empire backing them has collapsed.

So the Giver of Death makes use of us and so does the Giver of Life. And these two are irreducibly One. And whoever does not understand this must learn to see with a single eye.

I once met a man who was paranoid about dying, so i shot him

The only difference between death and love, one supposedly lasts forever, the other makes you think of classical music.

Death made its own appointments, and the city morgue waited like a patient suitor for a date.

Of course, from an absurdist perspective, all deaths are a punch line: the good news is, you're born; the bad news is, you die. Life is a death sentence.

Morir a uno mismo significa considerar que es mejor morir que tener lujuria; considerar que es mejor morir que decir esta falsedad; considerar que es mejor morir que… [nombra tú el pecado]».

When the Self dissolves into a world of separate selves and death becomes real, love becomes a pact with grief; what is gained then is the inescapability poignant fact of individuality. There will never be another you, and I love the stubborn particularity of you because you will disappear.

Repentance keeps sin from condemning us because Jesus died and scorned the shame.

They fail to realize that 99.9 per cent of people with a healthy diet will eventually die.

The mystery of death throws shadows over even the most carefree human life. None of us is truly indifferent to the possible issues concerning our personal eternity. The fall and eternal ruin of an immortal spirit is the most dreadful tragedy imaginable.

The thinker has much to contend with—the home, marriage, his own body, convention, books, the weight of past reflection, and loneliness. But sometimes he is compelled to contend with something more: not just the indifference or even the mild disdain of the crowd, but its actual hostility. In Western religion the death of Jesus is central; in the heroic tradition, the death of Achilles; in philosophy, much revolves around the judicial murder of Socrates.

I went to the Protestant cemetery, and it sounds really morbid, but when I came here, I thought that this is where I want to die. I feel spiritually found here.

Imagine someone in a skeleton costume. The costume is innocuous inasmuch as it is mere fantasy of dead bones over a living body of flesh. But, of course, there is a skeleton beneath that living body of flesh. Just as the skeleton is a costume over the flesh, the flesh is a costume over the skeleton. Flesh dies and reveals the skeleton, as if the skeleton is the death to come that is already inside the living flesh.

I think people believe in heaven because they don't like the idea of dying, because they want to carry on living and they don't like the idea that other people will move into their house and put their things into the rubbish.

Probably everybody be nice to you if they knew you were dying," he said. "Everybody knows everybody is dying," I said. "That is why people are nice. You all die soon enough, so why not be nice to each other?

Everything was shit & everything was beautiful. They were both hunted by the dead.

To see the beauty of the world is to put your hands on lines that run uninterrupted through life and through death. Touching them is an act of hope, for perhaps someone on the other side, if there is another side, is touching them, too.

She died on a windy gray day in March when the sky was full of darting crows and the world lay prostrate and defeated after winter. Peter Lake was at her side and it ruined him forever. It broke him as he had not ever imagined he could have been broken. He would never again be young, or able to remember what it was like to be young. What he had once taken to be pleasures would appear to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for reckless vanity.

I'm not afraid," Rafi said. "Why not?" "If I die tomorrow it will have been useless to have been afraid today.

Only God could take the deepest of human sorrows and in only six verses transform them into hope. That is exactly what this passage is about—hope. Death does not have the final word. The false teachers do not have the final word. Human speculation does not have the final word. Into the darkness of our confusion, God shines the light of His truth. God's truth can transform ignorance into understanding, grief into joy, and hopelessness into assurance.

HERE ARE THREE absolute truths: 1. The world is round. 2. We are all going to die. 3. No one enjoyed Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.