Quotes About Death

We never stop reading, although every book comes to an end, just as we never stop living, although death is certain

Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite; it surpasses our own deaths, our fears, our hopes for peace.

Mythical figures live many lives, die many deaths, and in this they differ from the characters we find in novels, who can never go beyond the single gesture. But in each of these lives and deaths all the others are present, and we can hear their echo. Only when we become aware of a sudden consistency between incompatibles can we say we have crossed the threshold of myth.

The combination of our mortality with our groundlessness imparts to human life its pressing and enigmatic character. We struggle to in our brief time in the midst of an impenetrable darkness. A small area is lighted up: our civilizations, our sciences, our loves. We prove unable to define the place of the lighted area within a larger space devoid of light, and must go to our deaths unenlightened.

So we must run back and forth between these two suns in our firmament—the presentiment of death and awareness of life—and avoid being transfixed by either of them. If we are lucky in this uncertain middle distance, we may form attachments and projects that enhance the sentiment of life. However, even as we try our luck, death comes to us, and brings our experiment to a end.

but when one human creature dies a whole world of hope and memory and feeling dies with him. To be robbed of the dignity of a natural death is a terrible deprivation.

He blew his nose resoundingly. B natural, said he, my cold drops more than a full tone every hour. Obviously I am dying.

Cattle die, and kinsmen die, And we will die ourselves; But fair fame never dies For the one who can achieve it.

these slides with the red-grease-pencil marks have areas where the neurons are either missing or in bad shape," said the resident. "The curious thing is that there's very little if any inflammation. I don't have any idea what it is. I'd have to describe it as 'multifocal, discrete neuron death,' etiology unknown.

Haven't you ever heard of the 1918 flu pandemic? It killed more people than World War One and World War Two combined.

pole. Denise followed, her eyes rapidly exploring the interior which was completely tiled; walls, ceiling and floor. The tiles had once been white; now they were an indeterminate gray. The room was thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. Parked in rows on each side were old wooden carts with wheels the size of those on a bicycle. Down the center of the room was an open lane. Each cart supported a shrouded corpse.

Under the stars we are as one. Theirs is the power of countless years. They see our grief and know our pain, yet still they shine and their light gives us hope. From acorn to oak, but even the mightiest of oaks shall fall. Thus do we recognize the great wheel of life and death and life once more. We surrender our departed souls under the stars and may the Green gather them to him.

By the mid to late fourth century, a cross surmounted by a christogram began to signify Christ's conquest of death, a triumph that would be ultimately shared by his faithful followers. Before long, the christogram was a popular decoration for a Christian tomb, supplanting the praying figure and the dove as a symbol of hope.1 In time, the christogram itself was displaced as the cross emerged to become the primary symbol of the Christian faith.

The merrel also knew its wing had not healed. But I could reach a great height once more before it failed me, it said. And from there I would fold my wings and plummet to the earth as if a hare or a fawn had caught my eye; but it would be myself I stooped toward. It would be a good flight and a good death. And so I eat their dead things cut up on a pole, dreaming of my last flight.

Magicians scorned talking to animals; animal thoughts weren't nearly orderly enough to suit magicians, and were always full of large untidy preoccupations, like sex and death and the next meal.

A total of 895,000 French soldiers died in battle during the Great War, but a further 420,000 died of wounds in the casualty clearing stations, from gangrene or septicaemia or some other sickness, much of it preventable.

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." —Norman Cousins

There will be plenty of time to sleep once you are dead.

The saddest part of life lies not in the act of dying, but in failing to truly live while we are alive.

The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside of us while we live.

I've yet to read an obituary that says, "he died peacefully in his sleep surrounded by his lawyer, his stockbroker and his accountant.

Most men would rather die than think

Norma Cousins comentó: «La gran tragedia de la vida no es la muerte, sino lo que dejamos morir dentro de nosotros mientras estamos vivos».

Norman Cousins observed that "the great tragedy of life is not death but what we allow to die inside of us while we live.