Quotes About Death

Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him.

The man was Halpin Frayser.  He lived in St. Helena, but where he lives now is uncertain, for he is dead. 

In the presence of death reason and philosophy are silent

Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.

Humor, like Death, has all seasons for his own.

He wrote with terrible rapidity, the twig in his fingers rilling blood without renewal; but in the middle of a sentence his hands denied their service to his will, his arms fell to his sides, the book to the earth; and powerless to move or cry out, he found himself staring into the sharply drawn face and blank, dead eyes of his own mother, standing white and silent in the garments of the grave!

When Death comes cloaked in mystery, he is terrible indeed.

When the man was dead an examination disclosed the unmistakable marks of an animal's fangs deeply sunken into the jugular vein. But there was no animal.

Patriotism is fierce as a fever, pitiless as the grave and blind as a stone.

For there be divers sorts of death—some wherein the body remained; and in some it vanished quite away with the spirit.

LONGEVITY, n. Uncommon extension of the fear of death.

Your mother all but accused me of something that is, among my kind, the highest crime a man can commit. There is no trial, only punishment, because it is considered better to let an innocent man die than let a guilty one live. (Page 79.)

Are you a god now, Risika, deciding who is to live and who is to die?

Musgrave and Lawley were alone with the dead body of their friend, whose masquerading dress had become his shroud.

He seemed to remember a sense of fearlessness as a child, for lacking the knowledge of death, he supposed, for still believing bad things happened only to other people. How long you held on to that particular belief depended on where you were born.

Whenever he was asked what somebody had died of he'd reply (with immense gravity), Lack of breath.

Grom-gil-Gorm," she said softly as she rode between Laithlin and Yarvi. "Breaker of Swords." Mother Isriun's horse shied back out of her way. "Maker of Orphans." Thorn reined in beside him, his frowning face lit red by the blazing light of her elf-bangle, and she leaned from her saddle to whisper. "Your death comes.

Vengeance only walks a circle. From blood, back to blood. Death waits for us all. You can follow your path to her bent under a burden of rage. I did, for many years. You can let it poison you." He took a long breath, and let it sigh away. "Or you can let it go.

He's really dead?" Benna blew out his cheeks. "Well, his head's off, and spiked above the gates, so unless you know one hell of a physician...

He tried to tell himself the dead are dead, but he knew Jenner had been right. Their ghosts stick in the minds of those that knew them, loved them, hated them. Those that killed them most of all.

Dogman and Dow, Tul and Grim, West and Pike. Six of them, stood in a circle and looking down at two piles of cold earth. Below in the valley, the Union were busy burying their own dead, Dogman had seen it. Hundreds of 'em, in pits for a dozen each. It was a bad day for men, all in all, and a good one for the ground. Always the way, after a battle. Only the ground wins. Shivers

sad to say, not all men that die are killed by me.

So the fox killed his brother, the wolf. (Mother Scaer)

The only difference between war and murder is the number of the dead.