Quotes About Death

Vivi e morti sono uguali.Cerchiamo tutti, semplicemente,un posto dove sentirci a casa. LASSITER

Cuando sus ojos se encontraron, Butch sintió una extraña calma. No iba a luchar. Iba a entrar apaciblemente a la noche eterna, de la mano de su mejor amigo, en una muerte hermosa y dulce.

To her, saving grace meant you got to live out your life like a normal person: You were healthy and strong, and the prospect of death was just some far-off, barely acknowledged hypothetical. A debt to be paid off in a future you couldn't imagine.

The fallen angel had given him the best advice. He'd said that there was no right or wrong way to honor the dead. The living could pay their respects in any way they chose. The important thing was that the deceased was sent unto the afterlife on a wave of love.

Vuoi sapere cos'è la morte? Te lo dico io cos'è.... la morte è la vita che si dimentica di te! Come profumi e che aspetto hai, che suono ha la tua voce, come ridi! Anche se c'è una vita dopo la morte, la mia morte sarà tu che vai avanti Senza di me fino a che non ti ricorderai più di che colore sono i miei occhi o quanto lunghi sono i miei capelli....

Il silenzio e l'immobilità della morte erano un vuoto, un buco nero che attirava a sé tutto quello che gli stava vicino; e la spinta era così potente che le vite degli altri si interrompevano, momentaneamente paralizzate da quella forza tremenda e contagiosa.

A brush with death had a way of making you want to live out loud, and sex with the person you wanted to be with was the best way of expressing that noise.

A veces tienes que darle un buen mordisco a la vida antes de llamar a las puertas de la muerte.

Vuoi sapere cos'è la morte? Te lo dico io cos'è.... la morte è la vita che si dimentica di te! Come profumi e che aspetto hai, che suono ha la tua voce, come ridi! Anche se c'è una vita dopo la morte, la mia morte sarà tu che vai avanti Senza di me fino a che non ti ricorderai più di che colore sono i miei occhi o quanto lunghi sono i miei capelli.... Le Ombre by J.R.Ward

I saw my father's wooden filing cabinet, his framed diplomas stacked on top of it, just as they'd been brought from his office. In that cabinet lay records of the colds, cut fingers, cancers, broken bones, mumps, diphtheria, births and deaths of a large part of Mill Valley for over two generations. Half the patients listed in those files were dead now, the wounds and tissue my father had treated only dust.

up to fifty thousand pounds for Miller's death."     VOLKOV OBVIOUSLY CALLED the Broker about it, too, because it wasn't much more

Someone once unkindly said that when people die in Morecambe, they don't bury them, they simply sit them up in the town bus shelters to make the place look busy.

It'll come, Jack- and in his countenance you saw he meant just death- What'll be with it? Maybe you gotta know a lot of people in Heaven to make life succeed. It'll come. You don't have to know a soul to know what I know- to expect what I'm expecting-to feel yourself alive and dying in your chest every minute of the livelong day- When you're young you wanta cry, when you're old you wanta die. But that's too deep for you know, Ti mon Pousse

Are we fallen angels who didn't want to believe that nothing is nothing and so were born to lose our loved ones and dear friends one by one and finally our own life, to see it proved?

Pretty girls make graves

The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die?

And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.

Down in Denver, all I did was die.

Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached heaven. Naturally, now that I look back on it, this is only death: death will overtake us before heaven. The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death.

The truth of the matter is, you die, all you do is die, and yet you live, yes you live, and that's no Harvard lie.

What a horror it would have been if the world was real, because if the world was real, it would be immortal.

But on top of all that, the feelings about Princess, I'd also gone through an entire year of celibacy based on my feeling that lust was the direct cause of birth which was the direct cause of suffering and death and I had really no lie come to a point where I regarded lust as offensive and even cruel. Pretty girls make graves, was my saying, whenever I'd had to turn my head around involuntarily to stare at the in­comparable pretties of Indian Mexico.

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear?

Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.' You kill yourself to get to the grave. Especially you kill yourself to get to the grave before you die; and the name of the grave is 'success', the name of that grave is hullabullo boom boom horseshit.