Quotes About Death

I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life—and only then will I be free to become myself.

How can we call death-about which we know nothing- the opposite of life, when we barely comprehend life itself?

Life is stressful, dear. That's why they say "rest in peace".

How do you think the Dharma is able to describe the death process in such detail? It's not a whole bunch of lamas sit around speculating on what might happen. It's because they actually go through it. Frequently.

There can come a time, witnessing the decline of a loved one, when the peace of physical death starts to seem preferable to the torture of continued living.

It is not morbid, not depressing to contemplate one's own death. Completely the opposite! It is only when we have faced the reality of our own death that we really know how to live.

If the human condition were the periodic table, maybe love would be hydrogen at No. 1. Death would be helium at No. 2. Power, I reckon, would be where oxygen is.

Yet there seemed to be no easy correlation between the awful grief I felt at her death and our closeness – or lack of it – in life, and it occurred to me that perhaps grief is as much regret for what we have never had as sorrow for what we have lost.

I start thinking about life after death. I've got to quit thinking about it because it's very deep. Very deep. Sometimes you start thinking about it, and you don't feel like you want to be alive, so I don't like to get all quiet.

Back in my muddy clothes at the door of my room, swallowing pills and lighting cigarettes, wanting to sleep but not wanting to dream, thinking this'll be the day that I die, pictures of Paula waving bye bye.

No more dead dogs and slashed swans for us," whispered Dick Alderman, like this was good news- It wasn't.

You waited in the same piss for your Pete to show. He didn't so you went inside and cremated your mother. Stood alone at the front and bit the inside of your cheek until the blood wouldn't stop and the tears finally came.

The Byline Boy at last, brining more death to the house of the dead.

A high jeopardy of extinction comes with territory. Islands are where species go to die.

With influenza and many other diseases the order is reversed, high infectivity preceding symptoms by a matter of days. A perverse pattern: the danger, then the warning. That probably helped account for the scale of worldwide misery and death during the 1918–1919 influenza: high infectivity among cases before they experienced the most obvious and debilitating stages of illness.

Advisory: If your husband catches an ebolavirus, give him food and water and love and maybe prayers but keep your distance, wait patiently, hope for the best-- and, if he dies, don't clean out his bowels by hand. Better to step back, blow a kiss, and burn the hut.

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

Even the influenza virus of 1918–1919, having killed up to 50 million people around the world, remained a ghostly cipher, unseen and unidentified at the time.

Drama Series's carcass was unceremoniously carted away, by the usual contract hauler, to the dump where dead Brisbane horses routinely go. Her cause of death remained uncertain. Had she been bitten by a snake? Had she eaten some poisonous weeds out in that scrubby, derelict meadow? Those hypotheses crumbled abruptly, thirteen days later, when her stable mates began falling ill. They went down like dominoes. This wasn't snakebite or toxic fodder. It was something contagious

For a dozen years it traveled quietly from person to person. Symptoms were slow to arise. Death lagged some distance behind. No one knew. This virus was patient, unlike Ebola, unlike Marburg. More patient even than rabies, but equally lethal.

When a pathogen leaps from some nonhuman animal into a person, and succeeds there in establishing itself as an infectious presence, sometimes causing illness or death, the result is a zoonosis.

I sought my death and found it in my womb, I looked for life and saw it was a shade, I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb, And now I die, and now I was but made; My glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done. —Chidiock Tichborne

Being a stranger was like being dead, and brought to mind how, in a book he had read that most folks misunderstood one common state: The flip side of love is indifference, not hate.

Usama bin Laden has died a peaceful death due to an untreated lung complication, the Pakistan Observer reported, citing a Taliban leader who allegedly attended the funeral of the Al Qaeda leader...Bin laden, according to the source, was suffering from a serious lung complication and succumbed to the disease in mid-December, in the vicinity of the Tora Bora mountains.