Quotes About Death

oh each poet's a beautiful human girl who must die.

I'm alive and dead now, at the same time, speaking in your poems.

I want to know why my loves had to die.

At any moment a force from nowhere could rip me out of my life. I could die of traffic or weather, I could die of war or my heart.

I cried in the kitchen, his death was stupid at such a young age.

Death is beautiful, the way you are . . . If it's so beautiful why must I live now, live first?

We are all failing, masterfully, because we desire it. Want to see civilizations ruined, want to see our species' death, our psychic embroidery unraveled. We want to find out who's left, the impossible perceiver of our demise.

The dead people want to know why everything turned out this way.

you kill me, but here I'll be, dis- passionate, outside time.

And my love. Which is visible here in death . . . it's part of what you're left with when you die.

We were in Venice at the time of the revels before Lent. I went into the plaza wearing a mask and hood. I saw a pretty girl, dark skin, dark eyes. She smelled strong of fish and capers and fried artichokes. I kissed her for Beauty's sake. For Lady's sake. Behind the veil of the mask, in the old Jewish Quarter, I kissed her, kissed her, and didn't cry, because I know one day I will die. And I will not rise again.

These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events that my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life.

When the dead are done with the living, the living can go on to other things," Franny said. "What about the dead?" I asked. "Where do we go?

What did dead mean, Ray wondered. It meant lost, it meant frozen, it meant gone.

Death is the last enemy: once we've got past that I think everything will be alright.

All his beauty, wit and grace Lie forever in one place, He who sang and sprang and moved Now, in death, is only loved.

Jesus lived a truly uncluttered life and died a focused, eternally fruitful death. How I long to follow His example.

Death is a gift meant to wake up the living, to nudge us toward a life of purpose and intention.

Now comes the good part. Breathing the happy gas, I get answers to all the questions I had about death but was afraid to ask.

Cuando recibió el primer disparo, no le dolió nada. Por un instante creyó que tenía una flor grande, roja y caliente sobre el pecho, la quiso coger para llevarle a su madre, pero estaba maniatado; sin embargo, todos le vieron sonreír, y cayó muerto. De 'Tobita', p.48.

A death without being a loss to anybody is the most unworthy death.

Dying is also an art and just like any other art it must be learned.

One dies the way he lives.

Those who know how one should die knew how one should live.