Quotes About Death

When we lose our innocence—when we start feeling the weight of the atmosphere and learn that there's death in the pot—we take leave of our senses.

I have to acknowledge that the sea is a cup of death, and the land is a stained altar stone. We the living are survivors huddled on flotsam, living on jetsam. We are escapees. We wake in terror, eat in hunger, sleep with a mouth full of blood.

I think that the dying pray at the last not please, but thank you, as a guest thanks his host at the door. Falling from airplanes the people are crying thank you, thank you, all the way down the air; and the cold carriages draw up for them on the rocks.

Jetzt bleibt ihm nur noch er Tod, doch der lässt auf sich warten, weil Mahmoud ein Gewohnheitstier ist und sich daran ewöhnt hat, am Leben zu sein.

She is so beautiful. My Rose. Finer than sculpture, softer than sand. Rose, I'm kissing you now. Oh God, I have to kiss her. I will die if I don't kiss her, I know that now. It is a fact. I will die. It will kill me.

July I The British plan is this: a million shells to cut the Boche wire. Shoulder your seventy-pound pack as usual. Go over the top. Walk towards the German lines, they'll all be dead by now. Keep walking til you hit Berlin. In four and a half hours, fifty thousand Britons and Canadians are shot. That afternoon, the British plan is revised: do everything as before. But this time, run. Abe is killed walking. Rudy is killed running.

I watched the poor sheep's eyes – a look I'd see again and again in the dying – as the animal registered its imminent death, that terrible unforgettable second when, either from exhaustion or disgust, it seemed to decide finally to give up and die. It was a haunting look, a look that says, You were – all of you – a terrible disappointment. The eyes closed slowly, as if the animal were going to sleep, almost willfully. I had my fresh lamb.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and what I had wanted to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off for ever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever.

Life's only choosing when to die. Life's a big postponement because the choice is so difficult. It's a tremendous relief not to have to choose.

If I had died it would have been even better for you political bratchnies, would it not, pretending and treacherous droogs as you are.' But all that came out was er er er.

Never,' I said. 'One can die but once. Dim died before he was born. That red red krovvy will soon stop.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off forever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever.

Each man kills the thing he loves

And then, before he told me, I knew what it was. The old ptitsa who had all the kots and koshkas had passed on to a better world in one of the city hospitals. I'd cracked her a bit too hard, like. Well, well, that was everything. I thought of all those kots and koshkas mewling for moloko and getting none, not any more from their starry forella of a mistress. That was everything. I'd done the lot, now and me still only fifteen.

Everything ends In Mexico Mexico, An excellent place to die. Come some day and try Mexico.

One can die but once. Dim died before he was born.

Because I'm too drunk to feel the pain if you hit me, and if you kill me I'll be glad to be dead.

her insan sevdiÄŸi ÅŸeyi öldürür. Ceza öÄŸesi budur belki de.

Hapisteki ÅŸairin dediÄŸi gibi, her insan sevdiÄŸi ÅŸeyi öldürür. Ceza öÄŸesi budur belki de. (syf. 100)

Mihi mori lucrum--For me to die is a gain. To die, murdered by the haters of Jesus Christ, would be my gain. All my fervent desires have always been to die in a hospital as a poor man, or on the scaffold as a martyr, murdered by enemies because of the most holy religion that we profess and preach. I should like to seal with my blood the virtues and truths which I have preached and taught.

Since the baby had died, they had had no other child.

The crematorium was a blaze of sunshine.

Getting old is not a matter of age; it's a lack of movement. And the ultimate lack of movement is death.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. —MARK TWAIN