Quotes About Death

Glory?! Have you gone MAD? There's no glory to be had now! Only retreat -- or surrender -- or death! That's an easy chose for us, arcadian! SPARTANS NEVER RETREAT! SPARTANS NEVER SURRENDER!

An old man dies, a young woman lives. Fair trade.

Dreamt by a Man in a Field I am thinking of the dead Who are still with us. They are not like us, they are Young and beautiful, On their way in the rain To meet their lovers. On their way with their dark umbrellas, Always laughing, so quick, Like limbs flying back In a boat before night, So constant, Like the glass floats The fisherman use in Japan. But for them there is no moon, For us the same news We do not receive.

Smrtka vždy odchádza z javiska s potmehúdskym poh?adom - možno nazna?uje, že jej tajným darom je obnova.

Of all the warriors that have ever been born in this land, he is the mightiest; and he has sworn a great oath that he will die in the field, with his face turned toward the false worshippers who believe that the son of Joseph was God.

Kill me, or you are a murderer.

We need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.

Writing is a deeper sleep than death. Just as one wouldn't pull a corpse from its grave, I can't be dragged from my desk at night.

There can be no more beautiful spot to die in, no spot more worthy of total despair, than one's own novel.

Always only the desire to die and the not-yet-yielding; this alone is love.

Then his head sank to the floor of its own accord and from his nostrils came the last faint flicker of his breath.

4 December. To die would mean nothing else than to surrender a nothing to the nothing, but that would be impossible to conceive, for how could a person, even only as a nothing, consciously surrender himself to the nothing, and not merely to an empty nothing but rather to a roaring nothing whose nothingness consists only in its incomprehensibility.

The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired. Only after death, only in solitude, does a man's true nature emerge. In death, as on the chimney sweep's Saturday night, the soot gets washed from his body.

Thin, without fever, not cold, not warm, with empty eyes, without a shirt, the young man under the stuffed quilt heaves himself up, hangs around my throat and whispers in my ear, Doctor, let me die.

I am dead and despise anyone who isn't

I was wise, if you like, because I was prepared for death at any moment, but not because I had taken care of everything that was given to me to do, rather because I had done none of it and could not even hope ever to do any of it.

Alone I continue living, yet when a visitor arrives it kills me.

If I could drown in sleep as I drown in fear, I would be no longer alive.

Nobody reaches through here, least of all with a message from one who is dead. You, however, sit at your window and dream of the message when evening comes.

A man is lying on his deathbed and in the independence gained by the proximity of death, he says: 'I have spent my life fighting the desire to end it.' Then a pupil mocks his teacher, who talks of nothing but death: 'You're always talking about death and yet you do not die.' 'And yet I will die. I'm just singing my last song. One man's song is longer, another man's is shorter. At most, however, they differ by only a few words.

I avoid people not in order to be able to live in peace, but in order to be able to die in peace.

His last words to Robert Klopstock are 'Kill me, or you are a murderer.

Omoar?-m?, altfel e?ti un uciga?.

mas manteve uma calma absoluta durante a agonia porque é uma lei tornar a morte leve aos moribundos, de acordo com as nossas próprias forças