Quotes About Death

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'

Life, struck sharp on death,Makes awful lightning.

I shall but love thee bitter after death

The picture of helpless indolence she calls herself sublimely helpless and impotent I had done living I thought Was ever life so like death before? My face was so close against the tombstones, that there seemed no room for tears.

Learn to win a lady's faith Nobly, as the thing is high; Bravely as for life and death - With a loyal gravity. Lead her from the festive boards, Point her to the starry skies, Guard her, by your truthful words, Pure from courtship's flatteries.

Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink, Was caught up into love, and taught the whole Of life in a new rhythm.

If you have to die [...] better to go down fighting. Better to die in company. Better not be the last, and alone, weighed down with all that knowing.

Another wave, and this one wet him to the knee, spray salting his cheek and lips. The flavor was as musky as the lamia's scent, salt and depth and thousands of deaths, over thousands of years, all washed down into the endless, consuming sea.

The Merlin's sense of humor would be the death of me yet.

Death was always a relative function, a complicated thing when you were dealing with angels or Exalt. People died in pieces, by increments, or were transformed into something else. For Means, death had meant something concrete, a hard limit.

Tis possible the Faerie Queen grew so linked with Gloriana in the minds of England's folk that Gloriana's passing could take the Mebd with it. And if the Mebd dies without loosing her bonds, all those Fae who are knotted in her hair die with her.

Death is my speciality, and you have my professional assurances that it's not in any way permanent.

Everyone loved and lost, and perhaps it took a necromancer to appreciate how truly universal that experience could be.

Dragons, it seemed, knew about death and war. But not so much about baking.

As he watched, the kiss was completed. Mallory pressed pink lips over the head woman's mouth, and Tristen could see the working between the corpse's teeth. Mallory's eyes closed, fingers fanning through brown hair to hold the head steady.

He glanced down, his lashes thick and ivory against his blue-tinged cheek, and draw the dead man's sheath and knife from his boot.

White horses are a symbol of death, as well you know. And is half your fault, I suspect.

I was so caught up in thinking about what might happen when I got to Heaven that I forgot to die on the way down at all.

I nudged Whiskey down the far side of the rise, and came among them like Death on my pale horse.

The dead cast no shadows; nor did they reflect.

He might be a dead man. He might sometimes find himself grown very tired. But he could not find it in himself to regret the circumstances of his death, no matter how unusual.

Goddamn it, I am sick of watching people I like get killed. I like get killed. I am even sicker of getting people I like killed. It's not an acquired taste, let me tell you, every drink is bitter as the last. And they never get easier to swallow.

The baby in her arms was silent: ensorceled, and there would be a simulacram left in the crib, a changeling. A fey mockery to die by sunrise, and leave the grieving family to wonder. Crib death. Elf-stroke. How little we remember.

He just wanted to die and now he's in me, and Mallory won't let him die.