Quotes About Death

Ci sono luoghi dove gli uomini vanno a nascere, altri dove si nascondono, altri dove fanno l'amore. La sua era una casa dove si andava a morire.

LA MADRE E il cuore quando d'un ultimo battito avrà fatto cadere il muro d'ombra per condurmi, Madre, sino al Signore, come una volta mi darai la mano. In ginocchio, decisa, Sarai una statua davanti all'eterno, come già ti vedeva quando eri ancora in vita. Alzerai tremante le vecchie braccia, come quando spirasti dicendo: Mio Dio, eccomi. E solo quando m'avrà perdonato, ti verrà desiderio di guardarmi. Ricorderai d'avermi atteso tanto, e avrai negli occhi un rapido sospiro.

Dac? va fi s? mor, f?-m? s? nu m? tem de moarte, dar f? ca moartea mea s? aib? însemn?tate, o, Dumnezeule.

Soldiers live. He dies and not you, and you feel guilty, because you're glad he died, and not you. Soldiers live, and wonder why.

I do not want to die, Croaker. All that I am shrieks against the unrighteousness of death. All that I am, was, and probably will be, is shaped by my passion to evade the end of me.

Thus she's discovered the Conradian truth: The first horror is there's horror. The second is you accommodate it...You do what you do because it's that or death.

All motivation derives from the primary fact of mortality. Take mortality away and motivation loses its...motivation.

Vengeance for the murdered supposed the dead enjoyed sufficient afterlife to appreciate their efforts. The dead enjoyed nothing of the kind. The dead didn't go anywhere, except, if you were the monster who'd taken their lives and devoured them, into you.

The bad smell around the transfer of lucre was that it smacked of providing for her after my death. Neither of us could quite keep that out. Therefore we gave it its moment in the spotlight. I plan on staying alive, I said. But in case I don't you'll have what you need. Just promise me you'll always buy beautiful underwear. You drive a hard bargain, she said, but okay.

I suppose the word "unbearable" is a lie by definition. Unless you kill yourself immediately after using it.

It's why we close the eyes, too. The dead shouldn't have to look on the lewd aliveness of the living.

That was the treachery of suffering. It took you to the point from which you thought death must follow, then let you know it could hold you there indefinitely. That was when you stopped fearing death and started wanting it, praying for it, begging for it.

Open, the eyes of the dead are a travesty, a parody, make a fool of the deceased. Open, the eyes of the dead perform that most indecent subtraction, show the person without his life.

God being dead, irony still rollickingly alive...

I suppose the word "unbearable" is a lie by definition. Unless you kill yourself immediately after using it.

I did not know death then, that he is no more to be feared than the man on the black horse. He can be kind, time teaches us. He will lend a hand. Grace is his comrade, memory his foe. In the end he prevails, but triumphs not, so long as we remember.

In a famous seven-hundred-page judgment, a German court once concluded that there was no way the death of Anastasia could be conclusively proven.

But let us laugh carelessly like other men. Let us be timid even among fools. Let us knot silence around our throats. For they would surely kill us.

However, because death is the only absolute equality among human beings on earth, even the ignoblest and the most welcome instance of it deserves a little ceremonious thought.

Killing aroused anger, sometimes caused despair, sometimes gave hope. This was death the charmer, the changer; a continuous factor in one's life, to which one yielded.

When the past dies, we mourn for the dead. When the future dies, we mourn for ourselves.

It's even possible that Marilyn was found still breathing, rushed to Santa Monica Hospital by ambulance in an effort to save her, and returned to her own bed only after she was dead. There is some testimony to this on the part of ambulance drivers from a company that had transported Marilyn before. Anthony Summers reports the possibility that her unsuccessful rescuers could have been Robert Kennedy, or Peter Lawford, or both, responding in alarm to a last slurred phone call from Marilyn.

I thought, When the past dies, we mourn for the dead. When the future dies, we mourn for ourselves.

It wasn't the victory of one man or the death of another. It was the death of the future, and of our youth, because we might be rather old before the conservers left and the compassionate men came back. Saturday.