Quotes About Death

And when the moment came, even then Genji would be fortunate. He would die without fear, drenched in his own heart's blood, in the embrace of a beautiful woman, and she would weep for him. What samurai could hope for more?

Sadako's death, ten years after the Hiroshima bombing, was caused by radiation exposure.

So you want to die honorably? You are being selfish. Each and every person you killed had his own life. Whether that life was blessed or not ... everyone is born into this world ... they grow up ... some people have family ... some are alone in this world ... some have young children ... some are engaged ... some have pets ...some people have high hopes and great dreams ... other have no ambition at all and you ended everything for them Takezo.

I don't know the sutras. I can't console Yamada's spirit by chanting sutras. But I've been thinking a lot, and here's what I think. I've thought about how much Yamada didn't want to die. . . . No, to tell the truth, I've thought about how much he didn't want to be killed. There's no denying that Yamada was killed.

may ever in prosperity if life ever were in my favour, in my last dying will with a wish; may my bowls never empty. No matter what it is, whether it's a bowl of Ramen noodles or a bowl of meth or a bowl of Diamonds. May my bowls never empty in death -CRYSTALLINE DOLLMETH

According to Hegel, the slave fully acknowledges the self-consciousness of the master and she dissolves herself or upholds herself as their relationship dictates and evolves to the struggle unto death. Although this struggle is a failure, according to Hegel, if someone actually dies.

Verken ektemannen eller barnet hennes hadde syknet gradvis hen før de døde, så hun hadde hatt tid til å forberede seg, eller til å si avskjedsordene som burde ha vært sagt - nei, døden hadde kommet voldsomt og brått, den hadde feid alt annet til side og etterlatt henne helt hjelpeløs.

Su muerte fue como la de un grillo cuando llega el invierno y apaga su último canto».

Esa vez en Hiroshima vi diversos monstruos en el cauce seco del río. Seres humanos a punto de morir, casi imposibles de distinguir si eran hombres o mujeres, con la cara hinchada y arrugada y, por ello, con apenas una raya por ojos; los labios, inflamados a más no poder, y mostrando sus penosas extremidades.

Zoroaster preached that the universe was divided between darkness and light, between good and evil, between truth and falsehood, between life and death. The universe split into these opposing camps at the moment of creation, they had been locked in struggle ever since, and the contest would endure to the end of time.

I wake up every morning and I wish I were dead, and so does Jim.

If I am going to die, I might as well die sarcastic.

Have you noticed how easily the very young die? They make the best martyrs for any cause, the best soldiers, the best suicides. It's because they're held here so lightly: they haven't yet accumulated loves and responsibilities and commitments and all the things that tie us securely to this world. They can let go of it as easily and simply as lifting a finger. But as you get older, you begin to find things that are worth holding onto, forever.

To my mind the defining characteristic of our era is spin, everything tailored to vanishing point by market research, brands and bands manufactured to precise specifications; we are so used to things transmuting into whatever we would like them to be that it comes as a profound outrage to encounter death, stubbornly unspinnable, only and immutably itself.

Whatever people do, right up to killing, nature absorbs it, closes over the fissure and goes on about its own doings. He can't tell whether this is a comforting thing or a melancholy one.

But if you've seen a dead body, you know how they change the air: that huge silence, the absence strong as a black hole, time stopped and molecules frozen around the still thing that's learned the final secret, the one he can never tell.

My granddad was after dying the month before that, of a stroke. That took him four days. Life seems like a big thing when it takes four days for all of it to leave a man. When it's gone in a few sec- and, it looks awful small all of a sudden. We don't like to face up to that, but the animals know it. They've no notions about their dying. It's a little thing, only, you'd get it done in no time. All it takes is one nip from a fox.

She knows that killing a person does almost-invisible things to you; it leave you arm-linked with death, your head tilted just a degree that way, so that for the rest of your life your shadows mix together.

We are so used to things transmuting into whatever we would like them to be that it comes as a profound outrage to encounter death, stubbornly unspinnable, only and immutably, itself.

Now death is un-cool, old-fashioned. To my mind the defining characteristic of our era is spin, everything tailored to vanishing point by market research, brands and bands manufactured to precise specifications; we are so used to things transmuting into whatever we would like them to be that it comes as a profound outrage to encounter death, stubbornly unspinnable, only and immutably itself.

Religion was a crutch, a way people rationalized away their pain in life, like the slaves yearning for a better existence. A denial. When there is no fear of death, David had told her once, there is no need for religion.

Love is not at its fullest if one who lives is unwilling to die for it, or if it cannot restore to life one who has died.

We heard you were ready to die," the largest rabbit said. "We have come for you." "But I'm not dead yet!" Pinocchio cried. "You will be in just a few minutes, if you don't take your medicine." Pinocchio swallowed his medicine in one quick gulp. Almost immediately, he felt as good as new. He had to admit, when one is sick, even bitter medicine is a very sweet thing.

What is any of this to us? Time is endless and ours. Love and Death are only the games we play in it.