Quotes About Death

It was for this world that Christ had died; the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater glory lay around the death. It was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or a civilization - it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.

We are fools when we love. I was terrified of losing her. I thought I saw her changing--I don't know if she really was, but I couldn't bear the uncertainty any longer. I ran toward the finish just like a coward runs toward the enemy and wins a medal. I wanted to get death over.

Even though my reason wanted the state of death, I was afraid like a virgin of the act. I would have liked death to come with due warning, so that I could prepare myself. For what? I didn't know, nor how, except by taking a look at the little I will be leaving.

The dead were to be envied. It was the living who had to suffer from loneliness and distrust.

All the same you needed to be a little drunk to die.

Terror was always just behind her shoulder: she was wasted by the effort of not turning round. She dressed up her fear, so that she could look at it—in the form of fever, rats, unemployment. The real thing was taboo—death coming nearer every year in the strange place: everybody packing up and leaving, while she stayed in a cemetery no one visited, in a big aboveground tomb.

She said, 'I would rather die.' 'Oh,' he said, 'of course. That goes without saying. But we must keep on living.

He looked out over the landscape of baking earth and bleak iron huts towards the Scobies' house as though he were examining the scene of a battle after the defeat. He wondered how all that dreary scene would have appeared if he had been victorious, but in human love there is never such a thing as victory: only a few minor tactical successes before the final defeat of death or indifference.

I'd rather be dead or see you dead," I said, "than with another man. I'm not eccentric. That's ordinary human love. Ask anybody. They'd all say the same – if they loved at all.

Iboga is intimately associated with death; the plant is frequently anthropomorphised as a supernatural being, a 'generic ancestor' who can so highly value or despise an individual that it can carry him away to the land of the dead.5

The dead are more bloody desperate than we can even guess.

The cop rolled against the side of the corridor and slid to his knees, leaving a trail of fiercely burning blood on the wall. Then he collapsed and lay still, and in front of our eyes, to our overwhelming horror, the flames that were burning inside him gradually broke out, singeing and then setting fire to his uniform from inside, and then engulfing his whole body until he lay on the carpet blazing like a ritual suicide.

We don't want to live like this, but we don't want to die

His mother is dead, yet she has never not been, in theory, at his shoulder. He wants her not to have known and suffered or even witnessed all the things that followed her death. Including all this now. But that would be like wishing her dead. Merely dead.

Brilliant in the creation, slovenly in the consideration of consequences. Wasn't that true of every creator? Didn't anyone who changed things ultimately lead some people—perhaps many people—to death, grief, torment? The poor human Prometheuses who brought fire to their fellows. Nobel.

The death of a world is judgment of its inadequacy. Death removes the unnecessary and the false.

angrier and angrier, that he had to do such things because men were filled with arrogant greed, because some wished to rule with neither the wit nor the self-knowledge to see their inadequacies—and how many of their people would die.

Desert and Death Valley were the Mecca and Al Medina

No more will. No more freedom. Nothing new but agonizing death and never good shall come of it. We are the last of those who gave you breath and form, millions of years ago. We are the last of those your kind defied and ruthlessly destroyed. We are the last Precursors. And now we are legion.

Living things see only the surface, can't exist in the depths. Life is painted on the surface of the real. Death is the great unexplored volume. Death rises from the inaccessible, depth and death sounding so much alike … There

We shouldn't cross this place," I said. "A bad, sad place. It doesn't know it's dead.

You think you know horror, Irnakk? Horror is looking into the eyes of the Shadowed One, knowing you are about to die... and then being forced to live. Horror is waking each day to see every part of your body moving on its own - a shifting mass of Protodites where once was solid metal and living tissue. Horror is what is in the eyes of your partners when they look at you... and in the cries of your enemies when your swarm engulfs them. Don't talk to me about fear, creature - I am fear! -Zaktan

All partnerships fail in the end, just like marriages. The only life after death any human being will ever know is staying in a marriage or a partnership after it's over. And that's not life—it's living death.

Only in the shadow of death do we sense the true velocity of time—while adrenaline blasts through our systems, eternity becomes tangible and all else blurs into background.