Quotes About Death

I, who am not afraid of death, was afraid of the shouting of this dull, narrow-minded clod, petrified with professional conceit.

See, the way I got it figured, dying is sort'a like the thing that gives your life meaning. You may not want to get there, but, without it, you're just looking at a long, long road to nowhere.

Might I ask you a question, sir?" Ned groaned. "Yes, I was dead last night. And yes, I know they call me Never Dead Ned. But I guess that's only because Occasionally Dead Ned isn't nearly as catchy. Does that answer your question?" "It's true then. You can't die." "Actually, I die very well. In fact, I dare say I'm the undisputed grand master at perishing. It's the staying-dead part that I'm not very good at.

You're unlikely to find death anywhere near a tomb.  Everyone there is already dead. Death's business is among the living.

Fear of death has never played a large part in my consciousness - perhaps unimaginative of me.

I might be deceiving myself but I do not think that I do have an inordinate fear of death.

The death of any man aged 56 is very sad for his widow and family. And no one would deny that Steve Jobs was a brilliant and highly innovative technician, with great business flair and marketing ability.

Por entonces, en octubre de 1902, el padre de Max, que obstinadamente desaprobaba el uso de abrigos, cogió una pulmonía. Murió tres días, después, a los cuarenta y cuatro años.

Bronze gods, Mikani. You've seen death before. Bloody hells, we've buried friends together, you and I." "She's different, Hu." "Then tell her that before it's too late, you sodding imbecile.

Death lends everything a metaphoric imperative. Mundane objects become fetishes when the departed no longer need them, and breakfast conversations grow runic and wise from behind the shadows.

The Swiss—also a federation of semi-independent states—are even more attached to their guns than Texans, and they have a greater number per capita, but death by shooting is so rare they don't even collate the figures.

deaths by bullet per 100,000. In at number one is Colombia, with a whopping 51.8 whacks. Next is Paraguay with 7.4, then Guatemala, Zimbabwe, Mexico, Costa Rica, Belarus, Barbados, and the United States with 2.97—just ahead of Uruguay.

Taxidermy inhabits a half-life, an underpass between life and death. He is oddly vital, still possessed of an animating force, not as defunct as a corpse yet still nowhere near living. A talisman trapped between escape and dust.

death follows us around for a reason. It's because death is our best adviser. There is nothing more powerful than a person who is prepared to live right now, in this instant, fully accepting that this may be their last moment on earth.

There's this to say of love and breath -- They give a man a taste for death.

Her strong enchantments failing, Her towers of fear in wreck, Her limbecks dried of poisons And the knife at her neck, The Queen of air and darkness Begins to shrill and cry, `O young man, O my slayer To-morrow you shall die.' O Queen of air and darkness I think 'tis truth you say, And I shall die to-morrow; But you shall die to-day.

Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man.

I sought them far and found them, The sure, the straight, the brave, The hearts I lost my own to, The souls I could not save They braced their belts about them, They crossed in ships the sea, They sought and found six feet of ground, And there they died for me.

The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning; Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air. And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning. The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.

It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows over, The man, he does not move, The lover of the grave, the lover That hanged himself for love.

Good creatures, do you love your lives And have you ears for sense? Here is a knife like other knives, That cost me eighteen pence. I need but stick it in my heart And down will come the sky, And earth's foundations will depart And all you folk will die.

Here dead we lie Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung. Life, to be sure, Is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, And we were young.

the antidote to death was and always would be the heat and fury of life itself.

We spent today sending men to hell. What's more natural than to pass the night dreaming of procreating a few more to take their place?