Quotes About Death

It was Beauty. As always. Beauty killed him.

All your thoughts are in another head. Your dreams are sleepin' in a different bed. The force that moves you is a circular breath of life and death going round and round and round.

What counted was how you behaved while death let you live, and how you met death when life released you.

Almost everybody in the neighborhood had "troubles," frankly localized and specified; but only the chosen had "complications." To have them was in itself a distinction, though it was also, in most cases, a death warrant. People struggled on for years with "troubles," but they almost always succumbed to "complications."

Almost everybody in the neighborhood had troubles, frankly localized and specified; but only the chosen had complications. To have them was in itself a distinction, though it was also, in most cases, a death warrant. People struggled on for years wit

Then is not Death at watchWithin those secret waters?What wants he but to catchEarth's heedless sons and daughters?

They died in splendour, these who claimed no spark Of glory save the light in a friend's eye.

It is true, as the champions of the extremists say, that there can be no life without change, and that to be afraid of what is different or unfamiliar is to be afraid of life. It is no less true, however, that change may mean death and not life, and retrogression instead of development.

Death slew not him, but he made death his ladder to the skies.

The AIDS epidemic has rolled back a big rotting log and revealed all the squirming life underneath it, since it involves, all at once, the main themes of our existence sex, death, power, money, love, hate, disease and panic. No American phenomenon has been so compelling since the Vietnam War.

Life is a continuum. The soul is all that's permanent. Death is a rebirth. Leaves and birds come back, so does the soul. We all have a life cycle. It's nature, part of the universe, part of everything around us.

Death devours all lovely things;Lesbia with her sparrowShares the darkness—presentlyEvery bed is narrow.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlersThe buck in the snow…Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.

Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife The years from off your life, my friend! The years that death takes off my life, He'll take from off the other end!

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Into each dance must be packed the panic and ecstasy of her last moment of life, for underneath was death.

And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, This body of flame and steel, before the gust.

And so beneath the weight lay I And suffered death, but could not die.

The sun that warmed our stooping backs and withered the weed uprooted- We shall not feel it again. We shall die in darkness, and be buried in the rain.

Siege This I do, being mad: Gather baubles about me, Sit in a circle of toys, and all the time Death beating the door in. White jade and an orange pitcher, Hindu idol, Chinese god,— Maybe next year, when I'm richer— Carved beads and a lotus pod... And all this time Death beating the door in.

This my personal death?— That my lungs be failing To inhale the breath Others are exhaling?

Death devours all lovely things: Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness - presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain Dries the sheer libation; And the little petulant hand Is an annotation. After all, my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Just because it perished? — Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Passer Mortuus Est," Second April . (New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1921)

This I do, being mad: Gather baubles about me, Sit in a circle of toys, and all the time Death beating the door in.

Mine is a body that should die at sea! And have for a grave, instead of a grave Six feet deep and the length of me, All the water that is under the wave! And terrible fishes to seize my flesh, Such as a living man might fear, And eat me while I am firm and fresh, - Not wait till I've been dead for a year!