Quotes About Death

Shakespeare will not allow Falstaff to die upon stage. We see and hear the deaths of Hamlet, Cleopatra, Antony, Othello, and Lear. Iago is led away to die silently under torture. Macbeth dies offstage but he goes down fighting. Falstaff dies singing the Twenty-third Psalm, smiling upon his fingertips, playing with flowers, and crying aloud to God three or four times. That sounds more like pain than prayer. We do not want Sir John Falstaff to die. And of course he does not. He is life itself.

Every poet begins (however 'unconsciously') by rebelling more strongly against the fear of death than all other men and women do.

But Hamlet is death's ambassador while Falstaff is the embassy of life.

King die hard, in Shakespeare and in life.

No one dies halfway through the last act. – Heinrich Ibsen

A poet who equates his soul with the fourfold metaphor of night, death, the mother, and the sea is thinking figuratively as fiercely as did the Hermeticists and the Kabbalists.

When he died on February 23, 1902, at age ninety-six, he had broken a local longevity record

She held him spellbound," he went on, then let out a ragged breath. "So he went to his death."[

No, I mean I can smell somebody an' tell if they're gonna die. An old lady taught me how. Jean--Louise--Finch, you are going to die in three days.

Angel-bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don't suck my breath.

B?rakal?m bu kez ölüyü ölü gömsün Bay Finch... b?rak?n ölüyü ölüler gömsün.

There's a black boy dead for no reason, and the man responsible for it's dead. Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr Finch. Let the dead bury the dead.

There's a black boy dead for no reason, and the man responsible for it's dead. Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr. Finch. Let the dead bury the dead.

He was bleeding slowly to death in the midst of abundance, for his life's blood was poverty.

Seventeen bullet holes in him.

Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr. Finch. Let the dead bury the dead.

Let the dead bury the dead...

He's good and dead. He won't hurt these children again.

Deje que los muertos entierren a los muertos. (Heck Tate)

Let the dead bury the dead, this time.

I'm not good with hospitals. The endless buildings, trees dotted around like apologies, and inside, it's job functions you can't understand and that air of incomprehensible busyness. Curtained-off beds and death settling like falling snow.

But to die – actually to die – that's an honour only ever granted to the living. The cost of admission.

To have your face rolled down over your eyes and not even to notice your blindness. That's dead, I think, as dead as it's possible to be.

DIS ... DIS ... DIS ... it was a word it was a planet and the word thundered like a drum a drum the sound of its thunder surrounded and was a wasteland a planet of death a planet where living was dying and dying was very better than living DIS