Quotes About Death

Dying is almost the least spiritual of our acts, more strictly carnal even than the act of love. There are Death Agonies that are like the strainings of the Costive at stool.

Trust" are the eyes you need in the shadow of death.

The end result of adultery and fornication is spiritual and even physical death.

For man, maximum excitement is the confrontation of death and the skillful defiance of it by watching others fed to it as he survives transfixed with rapture.

Fighting in the air is not sport. It is scientific murder.

I wish I could make you like death a little more. It's a great preserver. Without it the loveliest things change slowly into face, as you will discover if you insist on having much more life.

The human capacity for grief. It just isn't capable of providing an adequate emotional response once the dead exceed a few dozen in number. And it doesn't just level off—it just gives up, resets itself to zero. Admit it. None of us feel a damn about these people.

I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of his creation, whose purposes are modeled after our own -- a God, in short, who is but a reflection of human frailty. Neither can I believe that the individual survives the death of his body, although feeble souls harbor such thoughts through fear or ridiculous egotisms.

The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives.

The further the spiritual evolution of mankind advances, the more certain it seems to me that the path to genuine religiosity does not lie through the fear of life, and the fear of death, and blind faith, but through striving after rational knowledge.

The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears, for there's no risk of accident for someone who's dead.

There are times when one feels liberated from one's limits and human imperfections. At such moments, we see ourselves there, in a little corner of our little planet, our eyes fixed in wonder on the cold and yet deep beauty of that which is eternal, that which is elusive. Life and death are fused together and there is no evolution, nor destination, there is only BEING.

Still there are moments when one feels free from one's own identification with human limitations and inadequacies. At such moments, one imagines that one stands on some spot of a small planet, gazing in amazement at the cold yet profoundly moving beauty of the eternal, the unfathomable: life and death flow into one, and there is neither evolution nor destiny; only being.

The next time you feel angry, try to become aware of some of the physical sensations and changes that are occurring in your body. Remember that physical reactions accompanying your chronic anger can lead to damage, illness, and possibly premature death.

I know my time will come soon enough, but I will not dwell on it. What is the purpose? We might as well dwell on the work of our teeth or on the mechanics of our walk. It is there, it will always be there, and I don't intend to spend my glorious hours looking over my shoulder to see death's icy face.

A day or so before his death, Borges called Bioy from Geneva. Bioy said that he sounded infinitely sad. "What are you doing in Geneva? Come home," Bioy said to him. "I can't," Borges answered. "And anyway, any place is good enough to die in." Bioy said that in spite of their friendship, he felt, as a writer, hesitant to touch such a good exit line.

It is natural to believe in God when you're alone-- quite alone, in the night, thinking about death.

Being cared for when one is dead is less satisfactory than being cared for when one is alive.

If you're always scared of dying, Obispo had said, you'll surely die. Fear's a poison; and not such a slow poison either.

The only truly consistent are the dead.

He held out his right hand in the moonlight. From the cut on his wrist the blood was still oozing. Every few seconds a drop fell, dark, almost colourless in the dead light. Drop, drop, drop. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. . . He had discovered the Time and Death and God.

Te obiÅŸnuieÅŸti ÅŸi cu asta, repet? el. Cincizeci la sut? din consol?rile filosofiei în cinci cuvinte. Iar cealalt? jum?tate poate fi exprimat? în ÅŸase: când eÅŸti mort, eÅŸti mort, frate. Sau, dac? preferi, o poÅ£i exprima în opt: nici când eÅŸti mort, frate, nu eÅŸti mort.

it is natural to believe in God when you're alone—quite alone, in the night, thinking about death . . ." "But people never are alone now," said Mustapha Mond. "We make them hate solitude; and we arrange their lives so that it's almost impossible for them ever to have it.

El mejor de los descansos es el sueño; y tú a menudo lo buscas; sin embargo, temes torpemente la muerte, que es la misma cosa.