Quotes About Death

Cuando estás muerto, nadie te busca. Los viejos enemigos no intentan ajustar cuentas contigo. La gente no te busca para que le narres historias.

Era un sonido paciente e impasible como el de las flores cartadas; el silencio de un hombre que espera la muerte.

This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn's ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

La muerte era como un vecino desagradable: no hablabas de él por temor a que te oyera y decidiera pasar a hacerte una visita.

The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, holding the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn's ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

She raised her own glass, filled with a deep red wine. "To Ambrose Jakis," she said with sudden fierceness. "May he fall into a well and die.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn's ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

In the midst of fear Lyra knelt by Lanre's body and breathed his name. Her voice was a beckoning. Her voice was love and longing. Her voice called him to live again. But Lanre lay cold and dead.

It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn't notice it herself. It wasn't dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it's there, down where you can't see, kindling.

hope they were together, busy with loving each other, until the end came. It is a small hope, and pointless really. They are just as dead either way. Still, I hope.

Tombs is for feckless tits who can't chew their own food,

it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind. Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind. Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

sound of a man who is waiting to die.

To ash all things return, so too this flesh will burn.

It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

la muerte. El último recurso. Después de morir, nada puede hacernos daño, o eso nos han enseñado.

Six feet six inches. Dead even.

if you could not close a door behind you to take a shit in the city - even if it was just the door to a shared toilet - if this one, most essential freedom was taken away from you, the freedom, that is, to withdraw from other people when necessity called, then all other freedoms were worthless. Then life had no more meaning. Then it would be better to be dead.

He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating - and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake had lived in the wide world outside.

If we want to discuss love, which after all we believe is something very special, it is not much help for someone to explain that it represents a universal basic principle governing the tides and the digestive system alike. He might as well tell us that death is a thermodynamic phenomenon affecting both the amoeba and a black hole in the constellation of Pegasus - and he would still have told us nothing.

Unlike flowers, the animals he tried to macerate would not yield up their scent without complaints or with a mute sigh — they fought desperately against death…and in their fear of death created large quantities of sweat whose acidity ruined the warm oil… The objects would have to be quieted down, and so suddenly that they would have no time to become afraid or to resist. He would have to kill them.

He possessed the power. He held it in his hand. A power stronger than the power of money or the power of terror or the power of death: the invincible power to command the love of mankind. There was only one thing that power could not do: it could not make him able to smell himself.