Quotes About Death

I didn't kill Francis," I said. "He managed that all by himself. And Lee was dragged off by a demon he summoned. Nick went over a bridge." Mrs. Sarong's smile widened, and she patted my hand again. "Very well done on the last one," she said, glancing at her daughter. "Leaving an old boyfriend to clutter future relationships is investing in trouble.

Have any of your clients died?" Ford asked. "Someone you were trying to help?" "Brett," Jenks said. "Peter?" I blurted out. But the amulet went a negative gray. "Nick," Jenks said nastily, and the color on the metal disk became a violent shade of purple. Ford blinked, trying to divorce himself from the hate. "I'd say no," he whispered.

It wasn't the bent, nasty, yellow laminated four-by-six card everyone else got but a real heavyweight plastic tag embossed with my name. Jenks had one, too, and he was obnoxiously proud of it even though I was the one wearing it, right under mine. It would get me into the morgue when nothing else would. Well, besides being dead.

Tears could not be equal, if I wept diamonds from the skies," Jenks whispered, empty and bereft. "My word silent, though I should howl. Muffled by death, my wings can't lift me high enough to find you. I feel you within. Unaware of my pain. Not knowing why I mourn." He lifted his eyes to mine, a glimmer of tears showing. "And why I breathe alone.

No dejaré que me capture-le respondí-. Lucharé hasta que no pueda más. Si muero, te quedarás así para siempre. Su sonrisa se ensanchó. -No morirás-respondió con una mueca. -¿Por qué? ¿Porque tú estás conmigo? -Vaya, por fin lo has aprendido.

Without warning he had become witness to something that stretched back through the eons, ties both elastic and enduring, surpassing death, surpassing life. She was his child. It was as simple as that and that complex.

Okay," Glenn said as he stood. "We need to get this back to the . . . ah, forensics lab. I want to know how long the body was stressed before she died." "An hour. That's all. Perhaps less." We all looked at Nina, and she shrugged, dust and rust marring her makeup like dried blood. "But by all means, do your scientific poking and prodding. She's suffered so much, what's one more indignity?

Sunt qui discessum animi a corpore putent esse mortem. Sunt erras

You're afraid of dying in the loving embrace of a soulless shadow. Your death is going to be a pleasure for both of us, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Such a twisted way to die—in pleasure.

Death is the general condition. Life is the exception: a beautiful, love-filled exception.

Their position seems to be that if they're going to die then the world must die with them. This is clearly a manifestation of narcissism, and has been named the Götterdämmerung Syndrome.

This was perhaps the evolutionary usefulness of the elderly, Bao had concluded: to give the young some kind of psychic shield from reality, putting them under a description which allowed them to ignore the fact that age and death would come to them too, and could come early and out of sequence.

Existential nausea comes from feeling trapped. It is an affect state resulting from the feeling that the future has only bad options. Of course every human faces the fact of individual death, and therefore existential nausea must be to a certain extent a universal experience, and something that must be dealt with by one mental strategy or another. Most people appear to learn to ignore it, as if it were some low chronic pain that has to be endured.

it would take 2,000 Vietnam Memorials to list the century's war dead. . . . he saw himself walking the Mall in Washington, D.C., and the whole park from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial was dotted with the black Vs of Vietnam Memorials, as if a flock of giant stealth birds had landed on it. All night he walked past black wing walls, moving west toward the white tomb on the river.

The blow killed Babe and Paul Bunyan both, and after that Paul had to admit that he was beat. But his own bacteria ate him, naturally, and they crawled all around down on the bedrock and under the megaregolith, down there going everywhere, sucking up the mantle heat, and eating the sulfides, and melting down the permafrost. And everywhere they went down there, every one of those little bacteria said I am Paul Bunyan.

There are going to be some guaranteed catastrophes bearing down on you that you aren't going to be able to avoid (i.e. death), so evolution has kindly given you a strategically located mental blind spot, an inability to imagine future disasters in any way you can really believe, so that you can continue to function, as pointless as that may be...Useful. Except when disastrously bad.

It's a life or death thing, society, and I think people mainly do recognize that, and the people who deny it are stupid fuckers, I say this unequivocally. Ignorant fools. That kind of stupidity should be put in jail.

The reason is simple: these things happened. They happened countless times, just like this. The oceans are salt with our tears. No one can deny that these things happened. And so there is no choice in the matter. They cannot escape the wheel of birth and death

Even the night sky frightens the narcissist, as presenting impossible-to-deny evidence of a world exterior to the self. Narcissists therefore tend to stay indoors, live in ideas, and demand compliance and assent from everyone they come in contact with, who are all regarded as servants, or ghosts. And as death approaches, they do their best to destroy as much of the world as they can.

And now India had paid the price. More people had died in this heat wave than in the entirety of the First World War, and all in a single week and in a single region of the world. The stain of such a crime would never go away, it would remain forever.

La consciencia se entiende tan poco que ni siquiera puede definirse de manera apropiada. El yo es algo escurridizo, buscado con denuedo, aferrado con fuerza, quizá con algo de miedo, una especie de desesperado abrazo al primer atisbo de consciencia, consciencia incluso de las impresiones sensoriales, para que uno pueda tener algo a lo que aferrarse. Para detener el tiempo. Para contener a la muerte. Esta es la fuente del fuerte sentido del yo. Quizá.

And after I told my six-year-old, grandma died in the accident, after tears and questions she suggested, maybe now is a good time to explain what the man has to do with babies. So i chose one perfect lily from that vase and with the tip of a paring knife slit open the pistil to trace the passage pollen makes to the egg cell- the eggs i then slipped out and dotted on her fingertips, their greenish-white translucent as the air in this blizzard that cannot cool the unbearable heart.

Bowen looked nervously about for peasants. It would be unendurable if they all turned out to be full of instinctive wisdom and natural good manners and unself-conscious grace and a deep, articulate understanding of death.

To live is to change, to die one hundred deaths.