Quotes About Death

They conjure up the retrospective vision of an unsurpassable happiness, enjoyed in the past, unattainable every after, yet enduringly alive in the memory: a bygone happiness ended by death; and not, as George III's paraphrase implies, a present happiness menaced by death.

In short, Poussin's Louvre picture no longer shows a dramatic encounter with Death but a contemplative absorption in the idea of mortality. We are confronted with a change from thinly veiled moralism to undisguised elegiac sentiment.

Here the development has run full cycle. To Guercino's "Even in Arcady, there is death" Fragonard's drawing replies: "Even in death, there may be Arcady.

The dead have no compassion for the living.

There was but a thread between life and death, and he had stumbled blamelessly onto the wrong side of it.

Just because we are dead does not make us smart.

My beloved grandson, I thank the gods for the joy of seeing your face again before I die. I wish with all my heart that you'd come back to us sooner." Argus smiled, but made no move to approach his grandfather. "You'll have to forgive me for staying away so long, Lord Aetes. As dearly as I love you, the idea of being put to death on my return to Aea kept me away. It's a trivial thing, the fear of losing one's life, but it means a lot to me.

Morning. Vast. Imprecision. Fog has covered everything in gray absolute. This has lasted. Doubt looms over the mind. Absence is harder to accept than death.

Two days after I killed myself I found a job here at some pizza joint.

The guy on the roof nods--it looks like this time, he heard something--and shouts back at me, "How did you know? How did you know she died?" Someone always dies, I want to yell back at him. Always. If not her, then someone else.

Y'know," he said and arched his back till his head reached the cereal shelf. "You know how they say suicides always happen in threes? Well, there's something to it. People around you start dying, and you begin to ask yourself what the hell makes you different, and what's keeping you alive anyway. It hit me like a Scud. I mean, I just didn't have the answers.

His whole body was completely still, except the wings, which were still fluttering a little, like when someone dies. That's when he finally understood that of all the things the angel had told him, nothing was true. That he wasn't even an angel, just a liar with wings.

A typical thought by way of example: at night, when we say we're going to sleep, and we get into bed and shut our eyes, we're not really asleep. We're just pretending. We shut our eyes and breathe rhythmically, pretending to be asleep, until the deceit grows slowly real. And maybe that's how it is with death.

Virtue and vice are the only things in this world, which, with our souls, are capable of surviving death; the former is the rational and only procuring cause of all intellectual happiness, and the latter of conscious guilt and misery; and therefore, our indispensable duty and ultimate interest is, to love, cultivate and improve the one, as the means of our greatest good, and to hate and abstain from the other, as productive of our greatest evil.

The mother had taken the visitors' room to sleep in ever since the day two months ago when Death had walked whitely into that larger room and frozen with his strange breath the father of her youngest child.

Il m'arrive souvent, ces derniers temps, de trouver plus facile de mourir que de vivre. (61)

Realism falls short of reality. It shrinks it, attenuates it, falsifies it; it does not take into account our basic truths and our fundamental obsessions: love, death, astonishment. It presents man in a reduced and estranged perspective. Truth is in our dreams, in the imagination.

There are more dead people than living. And their numbers are increasing. The living are getting rarer.

I am the harvest of man's stupidity. I am the fruit of the holocaust. I prayed like you to survive, but look at me now. It is over for us who are dead, but you must struggle, and will carry the memories all your life. People back home will wonder why you can't forget.

I am the harvest of man's stupidity. I am the fruit of the holocaust. I prayed like you to survive, but look at me now. It is over for us who are dead, but you must struggle, and will carry the memories all your life. People back home will wonder why you can't forget." During

Do you think that life is the most important thing to a person? You don't think it for a moment. You know I don't. I can name a dozen ways of living to which you would prefer death." She

The very moment you separate body and spirit, you end up with a corpse. Separate faith and works and you get the same thing: a corpse.

Resurrection does not have to do exclusively with what happens after we are buried or cremated. It does have to do with that, but first of all it has to do with the way we live right now. But as Karl Barth, quoting Nietzsche, pithily reminds us: "Only where graves are is there resurrection." We practice our death by giving up our will to live on our own terms. Only in that relinquishment or renunciation are we able to practice resurrection.

Barth again: "only where graves are is there resurrection." We rather like the company. Amen Yes.