Quotes About Death

She smiled with all the delight of a kid on Christmas morning and said, "Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die." - Alaska

A fine morning's killing, ay! All their necks wrung - all dead birds! Once they could fly - fly and swim! Fly and swim! All dead now - and sold cheap in the open market!

He stood between death and life as between night and morning, and thought with a soaring rapture, 'I am not afraid.

I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn't even tell the difference.

I can't let my mother's death have been in vain. Democracy is the best revenge, and we will have it.

What son would not bring his mother back to life and would not bring her into paradise after her death if he could?

Everything has its drawbacks, as the man said when his mother-in-law died, and they came down upon him for the funeral expenses.

Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

The wife's Mother said, 'When you're dead, I'll dance in your grave.' I said: 'Good, I'm being buried at sea'.

The night kissed the fading day With a whisper: "I am death, your mother, From me you will get new birth."

I was darkly convinced that at age 52 I would kill myself because my mother committed suicide at that age. I was fantasizing that she was waiting for me on the other side of the grave.

Death isn't enough. It doesn't remove the stain. But a slap, a whiplash, square on the face, does. Because a man's face is as sacred as his mother or his wife.

By the blessings of heaven I mean to live and die, please God, in the faith of my mother.

The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.

Organ donation is very personal to me. My mother, before her death, was on kidney dialysis for several years.

Noting his mother's visit to Las Vegas the weekend before she died. She got to go to heaven four days early.

I woke up one morning, went downstairs, said 'Good morning' to my mother and nearly scared both of us to death.'

Death is the mother of beauty," said Henry. "And what is beauty?" "Terror.

Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.' That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.

My natural mother died one month after I was born, apparently due to giving birth at an advanced age.

My father's mother, my Grandmother Young, was said by the family to have talked herself to death. Convalescing from a fever, she had defied the doctors and gone right on talking.

I can't bear the thought of my mother having to push me around in a wheelchair. I'd rather die quickly.

When my brother called to inform me, on the morning of May 22, 2003, that our mother Caroline Oates had died suddenly of a stroke, it was a shock from which, in a way, I have yet to recover.

Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.