Quotes About Death

I don't have empathy, Sahara. I can't feel for those who are going to die. It would be akin to asking a falcon to take flight when his wings had long been hacked off.

Insanity, blood-soaked death, murderous aggression, this is who the Psy were before Silence. No other race, it is said, bred more vicious, more intelligent, or more sadistic serial killers. But worse was the clawing madness that destroyed so many of them, saints and sinners alike, until it became known as the flip side to their incredible psychic gifts.

Onu öldürmelisin." Lijuan'?n göz bebekleri oburca büyürken gözlerini siyah alevler doldurdu. Yüzü, alev alm?? bir kurukafa gibi görünüyordu. "Onu öldürmezsen, duvarlar?n?n ne zaman çökeceÄŸini asla kestiremezsin." "Peki onu öldürmezsem ne olur?" "O seni öldürür. Seni bir ölümlüye dönüÅŸtürür." sy 140

Ölü bir kad?n için fazla merakl?s?n." "Ne diyebilirim? Ä°yi bilgilendirilmiÅŸ olarak ölmeyi tercih ediyorum." sy. 265

A court of rotting corpses to worship at the feet of the goddess of death.

Fuck!" Sweat rolled down his spine as he covered the remaining distance at extreme speed. She wasn't allowed to die, he thought, his rage dark red flame. Not until he'd flushed this vicious hunger for her from his system.

Blood fountained in an arterial spray that wet her face, turned the cherry blossoms black, but she was already shoving the blade into his heart and twisting it into so much pulp ... 'Will she be able to make him rise from this?' she asked Raphael, her voice without inflection, without mercy. Slater didn't deserve her emotions, didn't deserve anything but the cold hand of a long-delayed justice.

Last night, she had died.

The owl looked at her again, its eyes endless and beautiful and strange. Under her hands, its warmth was a soft glow, and in her mind spoke the voice that wasn't there. Child of love. Child of grief. Child of courage. Watch for the broken blade. Watch for the mourner. He is your death. A long sigh . . . and the owl spread its wings.

He haunts me. The sniper. In my dreams, he is a black shadow with his eye focused on the scope of a rifle. Sometimes, he puts down the weapon and walks toward me. Sometimes, he even touches me. But most times, he presses the trigger. And kills me.

Great is life, real and mystical, wherever and whoever; Great is death—sure as life holds all parts together, death holds all parts together. Sure as the stars return again after they merge in the light, death is great as life.

Sleep: the stepchild of Death.

I carry with me a white man who is dead during the day and walks at night. He drinks the blood of the living - both animal and man. (Nancy A. Collins, Deadman's Hand)

When I learned of Aunt Dimity's death, I was stunned. Not because she was dead, but because I had never known she'd been alive.

Death forces a grace period on all of us. The dying offer the living a final chance to be the best that they can be. We must take our cues from them, value the moments that lead up to and follow their departure, and work toward acceptance after they are gone. This is a vow as sacred as any we will make over the course of our lifetimes.

Tam Lin says rabbits give up when they're caught by coyotes [...]. He says they consent to die because their animals and can't understand hope. But humans are different. They fight against death no matter how bad things seem, and sometimes, even when everything's against them, they win.

The whole of Christ's life was a continual passion; others die martyrs, but Christ was born a martyr. He found a Golgotha, where he was crucified, even in Bethlehem, where he was born; for to his tenderness then the straws were almost as sharp as the thorns after, and the manger as uneasy at first as the cross at last. His birth and his death were but one continual act, and his Christmas Day and his Good Friday are but the evening and the morning of one

Ostara, if one dies while in these othere states of consciousness, one dies indeed. this begs the question, are dreams truly only ever dreams?

There is a moment after death when things can go one of several ways, when souls can mingle and reunite-or be forever parted. Fate throws the bones, and hearts are mended, or shattered. What tips the balance in one's favor? Is it Mercy, or Grace, or Justice-the names of the three brightest angels? Or is it Love, the name of the One True Being?

The fly that should be dead and the dog that should be dead in the house that should be dead, and the bride, who would be dead soon. It watched approvingly, appreciating the complexities—and fragilities—of life.

Thus the Puritan family was at no time the modern American nuclear family, or anything close. It was often composed of children of different parents, because one or another parent was likely to die young, making remarriage quite common. Winthrop fathered sixteen children with four different wives, the last of whom he married at age fifty-nine, two years before his death.

Take what comes and live life without complaint. What will be, will be. Life is a woman's gift; death is God's.

Take what comes and live without complaint. What will be, will be. Life is woman's gift; death is God's.'

I bowed my head, not knowing what was coming. The dying words of a King were powerful by every magic known to man. But I knew that since it was Arthur, they would be merciful. "He blessed you, Gwen, and he expressed the wish that when your time comes, you be buried with him. In the same grave." The tears ran freely down my face as I felt the love of that strong heart reach out to me, even from death.