Quotes About Death

Deep down, no one really believes they have a right to live. But this death sentence generally stays cosily tucked away, hidden beneath the difficulty of living. If that difficulty is removed from time to time, death is suddenly there, unintelligibly.

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.

Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live.

The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.

If some persons died, and others did not die, death would be a terrible affliction.

There are but three events in a man's life: birth, life and death. He is not conscious of being born, he dies in pain, and he forgets to live.

There are only three events in a man's life birth, life, and death he is not conscious of being born, he dies in pain, and he forgets to live.

The passion of hatred is so long lived and so obstinate a malady that the surest sign of death in a sick person is their desire for reconciliation.

Man has but three events in his life: to be born, to live, and to die. He is not conscious of his birth, he suffers at his death and he forgets to live.

Grief that is dazed and speechless is out of fashion: the modern woman mourns her husband loudly and tells you the whole story of his death, which distresses her so much that she forgets not the slightest detail about it.

There are three great events in our lives: birth, life and death. Of birth we have no conscience; with death, we suffer; and, concerning life, we forget to live it.

You are young to talk of dying," said the Emperor, looking at Jester. "Learn rather to live, to enjoy the gifts lavished so prodigally by an unknown god: the heat of the sun, the cool of the sea at noon, the scent of the forest in the evening, horses galloping across the plain. You are rich because you are alive. Even unhappiness is still life. Learn to love and enjoy, and learn also to suffer. And, when the time comes, you will learn to die.

Un timp care curgea în sens contrar ?i care nu înceta niciodat? s? urce spre izvoarele sale. Un spa?iu al c?rui centru era acest leag?n al familiei spre care moartea ne aducea înapoi.

Totul trece, totul moare. Nu exist? decât un lucru care scap? timpului ?i nu moare niciodat?: moartea. De unde se trag, îmi închipui, leg?turile dintre moarte ?i ve?nicie.

Nu, nu eram niste ignoran?i. Dar eram mor?i. Timpul ne-o luase înainte.

N-am auzit niciodat? pe cineva vorbindu-ne despre trecut f?r? s? vorbeasc? ?i despre moarte. Iar viitorul de asemenea, nu ne vorbe?te decât de moarte. Nu ne r?mâne decât prezentul pentru a încerca, oarecum în zadar, s? ?inem moartea la respect. Via?a nu-i niciodat? nimic altceva decât o lung? retragere în fa?a mor?ii.

La vita è soltanto il vestibolo e la prefazione della morte. Nascere non è altro che cominciare a morire. Le cose serie cominciano con la morte. Vivivamo poco tempo e saremo morti per sempre.

Odata cu moartea unui b?trân piere pentru totdeauna ?i ceva din trecut ?i ceva din istorie. Ceea ce nu mai ?tiu nici eu din secretele bunicului meu, bunicii mele, unchilor mei, verilor mei, nu va putea s-o mai ?tie nimeni în urma mea.

When this book [So Far From The Bamboo Grove] was accepted for publication, a writer friend told Yoko that now she would be competing with other writers. Yoko said, No, she would not compete with anyone for anything. "I competed with life and death when young," she said. "And I won." ... Here is the story of her victory.

When this book [So Far From The Bamboo Grove] was accepted for publication, a writer friend told Yoko that now she would be competing with other writers. Yoko said, No, she would not compete with anyone for anything. 'I competed with life and death when young,' she said. 'And I won.' ... Here is the story of her victory.

At least a third of all the people in the world died.

In order to weep, I had descended to the realm of the dead themselves, to their secret chambers, led by the invisible but soft hands of birds down stairways which were folded up again as I advanced. I displayed my grief in the friendly fields of death, far from men: within myself.

But," she said to the priest, "I'm not dead yet. I've heard the angels farting on the ceiling.

Certain attacks brought him so close to death that I wonder how he escaped it, what imperceptible shock—coming from whom?—pushed him back from the brink.