Quotes About Death

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides , the death-cap mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

Pain was nothing but resistance; resistance to the God energy caused by fear. Without fear and resistance, death would simply be a transition to another dimension.

After all, we're blessed with doctors. I brought him two doctors. So they argued with each other. One said operate, the other said don't. Meanwhile, the patient died.

Yes, Berel-Ayzik, what you say is all very well and good. But just tell us one more thing. Do they die in America like they do here? Or do they live forever?

Dying is the same all over. It's death that kills them.

My brother-in-law—may my life be as long as his was short!—has died of the toothache. Of course, his health wasn't too good before that.

And you sit in Yehupetz without a word! There's no excuse. If you're dead, the least you could do is let me know, and if you're alive, all the more reason to write.

When something dies is the greatest teaching.

When you were still here, Isobe thought, death seemed so far removed from me. It was as though you stood with both arms outstretched, keeping death from me. But now that you're gone, suddenly it seems right here in front of me.

Dead bodies, I told myself, were nothing more than broken shells on a beach. It was just that in the morgue, that beach so often looked like a bad stretch of the Jersey shore.

Death is the number two fear that people have and public speaking is the first!

It's coming face to face with death that magnifies the values of life force..

For each of us, time is a thief of glory. What gives meaning to our lives and deaths is love and hope, if we are willing to share and accept.

For each of us, time is a thief of flory. What give meaning to our lives and deaths is love and hope, if we are willing to share and accept

You wanted to kill your father in order to be your father yourself. Now you are your father, but a dead father.

If we are to take it as a truth that knows no exception that everything dies for internal reasons – becomes inorganic once again – then we shall be compelled to say that 'the aim of all life is death' and, looking backwards, that 'inanimate things existed before living ones'.

If one of us should die, then I shall move to Paris.

Civilization and Its Discontents is one of the last of Freud's books, written in the decade before his death and first published in German in 1929.

O intalnire cu filozoful William James mi-a lasat o impresie de neuitat. Nu am putut sa nu tin minte aceasta scena: in cursul unei plimbari, el s-a oprit deodata, mi-a incredintat servieta si m-a rugat sa continui drumul, el avand sa ma urmeze de indata ce ii va fi trecut criza de anghina pectorala pe care o presimtea. A murit de inima un an mai tarziu; n-am incetat sa-mi doresc un asemenea curaj in fata sfarsitului apropiat.

Sigmund Freud

Si tengo el deseo de ver desnuda a una mujer, mi padre morirá.» El afecto penoso toma claramente un matiz inquietante y supersticioso y da ya origen a impulsos tendentes a hacer algo para alejar la desgracia, tales como se impondrán luego en las ulteriores medidas de protección.

The final transformation which the fear of the super-ego undergoes is, it seems to me, the fear of death (or fear for life) which is a fear of the super-ego projected on to the powers of destiny.

The dead dwell in the conditional, tense of the unreal. But there is also the extraordinary sense that you have become omniscient, that nothing we do or think or feel can be kept from you. The extraordinary sense that you are reading these words, that you know what they'll say even before I write them.

Dying is a role we play like any other role in life: this is a troubling thought. You are never your true self except when you're alone—but who wants to be alone, dying?