Quotes About Death

When you want them to die, they never do.

People who run four miles a day and eat only nuts and berries drop dead. People who drink a quart of whiskey and smoke two packs of cigarettes a day drop dead. You are suddenly in a lottery, the ultimate game of chance, and someday your luck will run out. Everybody dies. There's nothing you can do about it. Whether or not you eat six almonds a day. Whether or not you believe in God.

Death is a sniper

The baby I could keep came when I was already dead. I was twelve when I was murdered, fourteen when I looked into the Yalu River and, finding no face looking back at me, knew that I was dead. I wanted to let the Yalu's currents carry my body to where it might find my spirit again, but the Japanese soldiers hurried me across the bridge before I could jump.

Being dead didn't make Jack Mercy any less of a son of a bitch

It's ridiculous to say not to speak ill of the dead. We're all going to be dead eventually. What would we talk about in the meantime?

However weary he might be of life after three centuries of it, he was more weary of witnessing death.

I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. What a terrible thing. Poor Roy. Poor Roy. The man was useless as tits on a bull, but he didn't deserve to die like that." "Mama!" "People who say not to speak ill of the dead are hypocrites, because you can take it to the bank they're thinking ill.

Love survives, you see. Through fear, through heartache, even through death.

Here doesn't lie CIan, for he's blown off with the wind. He lived and he died, then stayed on like the last annoying guest to leave the ball.

dead. Standing

it was life and death. Both you and Sawyer brought guns, but you didn't tell the rest of us." Sawyer shifted. "Shit. Combat knife, too." Riley pulled a wicked blade out of her boot. "Throwing knife." "Which only

The world ended with bangs and whimpers, with blood and pain, with fear and dread. A cashier handing change to a customer, a mother nursing her child, businessmen gripping hands over a deal—these and so many simple contacts spread death like a poisoned cloud over the world. And billions fell.

To make the Savior is your fate. Life out of death, light out of dark. To save the Savior is your fate. Life out of death, light out of dark.

Organism is opposed to chaos, to disintegration, to death, as message is to noise. To describe an organism, we do not try to specify each molecule in it, and catalogue it bit by bit, but rather to answer certain questions about it which reveal its pattern: a pattern which is more significant and less probable as the organism becomes, so to speak, more fully an organism.

Probably most catastrophes end this way without an ending, the dead not even knowing how they died...,those who loved them forever questioning this unnecessary death, and the rest of us tiring of this inconsolable catastrophe and turning to the next one.

As a young man he had not dared risk God's wrath by questioning His purpose. Now he did not give a damn. Fuck it. There was no Paradise and there was no Hell and if there was a God, He was worse than inscrutable. What did exist was the cold, cruel truth of a young man, dead—from cancer or a car accident or suicide or God knows what—at the obscene age of thirty-two.

We are always dying, all the time. That's what living is; living is dying, little by little. It is a sequenced collection of individualized deaths.

Whenever I can't sleep, I like to lie in the darkness and pretend I've been assassinated. I've found this is the best way to get comfortable. I imagine I'm in the coffin at my funeral, and people from my past are walking by my corpse and making comments about my demise.

Somewhere, at some point, somehow, somebody decided that death equals credibility.

The flights were hijacked, the planes crashed into buildings, 2,977 people died, and the nineties collapsed with the skyscrapers.

Something that's only metaphorically alive can never be literally dead.

Those born once will die twice and those born twice will die once

I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.