Quotes About Death

What's the difference between being dead, and just not knowing you're alive?

TO HIMSELF EVERYONE IS IMMORTAL; HE MAY KNOW THAT HE IS GOING TO DIE, BUT HE CAN NEVER KNOW THAT HE IS DEAD. —

even chickenshits have more kids than corpses do.

What's the difference between being dead, and just not knowing you're alive?

A good death does honor to a whole life.

Go mortals, sweat, pant, toil, range the lands and seas to pile up riches you cannot keep; glory that will not last. The life we lead is a sleep; whatever we do, dreams. Only death breaks the sleep and wakes us from dreaming. I wish I could have woken before this.

Neither exhortations to virtue nor the argument of approaching death should divert us from literature; for in a good mind it excites the love of virtue, and dissipates, or at least diminishes, the fear of death.

Dört sene vard?r ki bir harbi umumi ç?km?? olup milyonlarca insan birbirini telef etmektedir. Tarihi be?eri dolduran bütün muharebeler, benli?ini öldürmesini bilmeyen insan?n bir gaye u?runa ölmesini ö?renmesi için Cenab?hakk?n ana verdi?i kanl? derslere benzer.

She might be dead, but she was on a plane out of Turin in mid-August.

I can't die until the government finds a safe place to bury my liver

When you die, there is nothing. [...] to describe it in any way is to give it form.

Um novo Deus chegou a Vakhar. A morte expulsou os deuses menores e ocupou todos os espaços vazios de seus templos. Os hinos viraram gritos. A música, tiroteio. As preces, gargantas sufocando, cheias de sangue. Eu e o Balcã somos missionários. Nossas oferendas transbordam.

Little crimes like mine didn't matter anymore. Little deaths like yours didn't make a sound.

Sure, black holes can kill us, and in a variety of interesting and gruesome ways. But, all in all, we may owe our very existence to them.

I saw their living mouths moving in conversation and their dead mouths grinning the taut-drawn grins of corpses. Their living eyes I saw, and their dead eyes still-staring. Had it not been for the fear that I was going crazy, I would have found it an interesting experience, a trip such as no drug could possibly produce. Asleep and dreaming, I saw dead men living; awake, I saw living men dead.

Richard told Gallegos he was intent upon pleading guilty to all of the crimes except the abduction-molestation charges. He knew, he said, he'd probably get the death sentence, but that didn't matter. He didn't want to go through with any long, drawn-out trial that he'd lose in the end because of all the negative publicity against him. He didn't want his father to suffer the disgrace of all the details that would surely come out during a protracted trial.

Death, as such, held no fear for Richard. More than ever he believed in his heart that he would go to Hell and sit at the right hand of Satan. He believed all the hardest criminals throughout history would be there and he'd get to know them. Jack the Ripper, Al Capone, John Dillinger, Ted Bundy, Adolf Hitler, and all the others sent to Hell for their deeds. Heaven and Hell were as real to Richard as the helicopter now taking him to San Quentin.

Julian was diagnosed with bone cancer in the spring of 1991. The cancer spread quickly and he died of it on August 16 of that year.

Cousin Mike, the person most people believe put Richard on the path he traveled, died of a massive heart attack in April of 1995. He was overweight and still haunted by the ghosts of things he'd done in Vietnam, regularly using heroin. The Army gave Mike a hero's burial with a twenty-one-gun salute.

Ramirez: Yes. Serial killers and most killers in general have a dead conscience. Carlo: When you say a dead conscience that means they don't respond— Ramirez: No morals, no scruples, no conscience. They are ... uh ... they sometimes ... some of them don't even care if they live or die themselves and they are just the walking dead.

Killing with a knife is very personal; you actually are holding it as it goes in, and when death comes, you can feel your victim dying through the knife. It's like sex.

The only exercise I ever got was carrying dead bodies.

For dead men tell no tales.

And as Anglo-Saxon scholar Stephen Pollington says: 'All our hardiest words – mother, father, land, earth, tree, field, sky, love, hate, live, die, eat, drink, sleep, wake – are Anglo-Saxon words.