Quotes About Death

Es más fácil imaginar la muerte de una persona que la de cien o mil —murmuró el barón—. Multiplicado, el sufrimiento se vuelve abstracto.

Don Rigoberto vio cómo, al paso de la carroza fúnebre, muchos transeúntes se hacían la señal de la cruz. «El miedo a morir», pensó.

Van a morir muchos pero no hay que llorar, la muerte es dicha para el buen creyente.

Un tiro es un segundo. Eso es preferible a irse muriendo de a poquitos, de hambre, de frío, de soledad, de tristeza.

la llegada de Aureliano Segundo «a la ciudad desconocida donde todas las campanas tocaban a muerto»

As a symbol, the Crone had to be suppressed by patriarchal religions because her power 'overruled the will even of Heavenly Father Zeus.' She controlled the cycles of life and death. She was the Mother of God, the Nurturer of God, and, as a Crone, the Slayer of God. While Christianity retained the feminine as Virgin and Mother, it eliminated her role as Crone.

What I learned is the difference between of destiny and fate. We are all fated to die. Destiny is recognizing the radiance of the soul that, even when faced with human impossibility, loves all of life. Fate is the death we owe to Nature. Destiny is the life we own to soul.

So I would die in here. I'd leave my little life. I'd barely worn it out. Life had been a suit I'd only put on for special occasions. Most of the time I kept it in the back of my closest, forgetting it was there. We were meant to die when it was barely stitched anymore, when the elbows and knees were stained with grass and mud, shoulder pads uneven from people hugging you all the time, downpours and blistering sun, the fabric faded, buttons gone.

Today dies a crooked and gluttonus man' - it was true, at least literally; McCullough allegedly weighed three hundred pounds and suffered from scoliosis.

I don't believe . Religion? Humans desperate to take out infinity insurance. Death? The great big nada . Love? Dopamine released in the brain, which gets depleted over time, leaving contempt.

How scary and sudden the shift from Living to Dead.

Maybe it was a consequence of reaching the end of the end, finding out the dark, mad, gleaming tale had concluded the only way it could in the real world--with mortal people doing mortal things, a father and daughter, facing their deaths.

I think I've heard this story before. He died alone? Everyone dies alone.

Preferiría que estuviera vivo y encarcelado que muerto como un héroe

Would it be so strange to think that upon death, when there is no newly created consciousness in the continuation of our histories, we might experience ourselves in God as participants in God's own life? And if such could happen, would it not be the case that as God experiences the continuing events of the world, we who are held in the life of God would also experience the continuing stories of earth?

Picked up by lecher fingers stuck on greedy hands craving more greasy death in whatever form it comes. There's nothing left of me. I am completely burnt to a crisp. Uhmm, says the recently re-elected President, looking into the camera, telling it like it is: these extra-crunchy alien moonbeams sure are finger-lickin' good.

Anything was better than waiting in that hole trying to figure out what to think about in his last moments on earth, waiting to be plumed or slaughtered. He'd rather die trying to live.

But what if the death toll—which despite the distortions clearly favored the Americans—was having the opposite effect? What if heightened punishment by US bombs and guns actually fueled Communist resistance, inspiring ten recruits for every dead enemy fighter?

And now, a heap of roses beside the sea, white rugosa beside the foaming hem of shore: brave, waxen candles… And we talk as if death were a line to be crossed. Look at them, the white roses. Tell me where they end.

To live is Christ, and to die is gain."[213]

To live is to suffer; to survive is to find meaning in the suffering. If there is a purpose in life at all, there must be a purpose in suffering and in dying. —Gordon Allport

Death is not extinguishing the light. It is putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.

Taking your own life. Interesting expression, taking it from who? Once it's gone it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everyone else. Your life is not your own, keep your hands off it!

I decided that the dog was probably killed with the fork because I could not see any other wounds in the dog and I do not think you would stick a garden fork into a dog after it had died for some other reason, like cancer, for example, or a road accident. But I could not be certain about this.