Quotes About Death

A lark, caught in a hunter's net Sang sweeter then than ever, As if the falling melody Might wing and net dissever At dusk the hunter took his prey, The lark his freedom never. All birds and men are sure to die But songs may live forever.

Marvelous, isn't it, how these Germans can shoot back at us even when they're fucking dead.

All birds and men are sure to die but songs may live forever.

Ishmael was looking at him through narrowed eyes. "This is very important to you, this box." "It's important to the world." Ishmael said: "The sun rises, and the sun sets. Sometimes it rains. We live, then we die." He shrugged. He would never understand, Wolff thought; but others would.

But everyone had to die, and Father had given his life for the sake of a better world. If more Germans had had his courage the Nazis would not have triumphed. She wanted to do all the things he had done: to raise her children well, to make a difference to her country's politics, to love and be loved. Most of all, when she died, she wanted her children to be able to say, as she said of her father, that her life had meant something, and that the world was a better place for it.

Mi vida ha sido un fracaso —dijo Walter—. Aquí acaban todas las esperanzas. La democracia alemana ha muerto.

Justice was done. Swithin was a murderer and a rapist who deserved to die. But I found that my conscience was not untroubled. I had lured him into an ambush. In a way the death of poor George Cox was my responsibility. I had meddled in things that should have been left to the law or, failing that, to God. I may yet go through anguish in hell for my sin. But if I had to live that time again I would do the same

They who live by the sword shall die by the sword. Jesus said, although that verse was not often quoted by the priests of King Edward III's reign. Fiat voluntas tua : They will be done [Latin]

She opened her eyes again once, before she died, and said, "You'll have to win the war without me, kiddo.

Quel giorno la vita e la morte erano state distribuite come carte da gioco.

The ducks swallow the worms, and the foxes kill the ducks, and the men shoot the foxes, and the devil hunts the men.

Then everything is clear, Reynold said, looking around triumphantly at the crowd. Jacques Cherbourg did not drown, he survived. He went to England, lived there a while, made a girl pregnant, and died. The girl gave birth to a boy and named him after the father. Jack here is now twenty, and looks exactly like his father did twenty-four years ago. Reynold looked at the priest. No need for exorcism here, father. It's just a family reunion.

If I should die and my soul gets lost, it's nobody's fault but mine." Everybody was responsible.

Patria o muerte! Motherland or death! Cuba si, yanqui no!

Your aunt Rose is dying," Petranilla said as soon as he was close. "May God bless her soul. Mother Cecilia told me." "You look shocked—but you know how ill she is." "It's not Aunt Rose. I've had other bad news." He swallowed. "I can't go to Oxford.

La discussion du jour porterait assurément sur la politique. Anthony était revenu la veille d'un séjour de deux semaines à Gloucester où il avait assisté à l'inhumation du roi Edouard II, qui avait perdu son trône au mois de janvier, puis la vie en septembre.

And like: "Why should one want to wake up dead anyway?" If the glorious birth-to-death hassle is the only hassle we are ever to have . . . if our grand and exhilarating Fight of Life is such a tragically short little scrap anyway, compared to the eons of rounds before and after—then why should one want to relinquish even a few precious seconds of it?

The big, hard body had a tough grip on life. It fought a long time against having it taken away, flailing and thrashing around so much I finally had to lie full length on top of it and scissor the kicking legs with mine while I mashed the pillow into the face. I lay there on top of the body for what seemed days.

I understand perfectly; it's like the madman who goes over Niagara Falls in a coffee can because that's as good a way as any to get dead." "That's right," I tell him, knowing he don't understand it at all—that it's more because it's as good a way as any to stay alive. . . .

A guy sitting in the room someplace I can't see is talking about a guy up on Disturbed that killing himself. Old Rawler. Cut both nuts off and bled to death, sitting right on the can in the latrine, half a dozen people in there with him didn't know it till he fell off to the floor, dead. What makes people so impatient is what I can't figure; all the guy had to do was wait.

I guess this is what it's like to be a Vegetable; you lose yourself in the fog. You don't move. They feed your body till it finally stops eating; then they burn it. It's not so bad. There's no pain. I don't feel much of anything other than a touch of chill I figure will pass in time.

the hand of death touches every love that the Descenders profess for all and sundry, tears also streaming down the face with "compassion" written all over it.

One has to die to the separate self in oder to find the universal Self or God […] as the mystics everywhere have repeatedly told us, it is only in accepting death that real life is found. (A Universe within, p. 79)

BAD LUCK on the road can last only so long; then you die, or your luck improves.