Quotes About Death

Six hundred and forty fish later, the only thing I know is everything you love will die. The first time you meet someone special, you can count on them one day being dead and in the ground.

Tyler lies back and asks, If Marilyn Monroe were alive right now, what would she be doing? I say, goodnight. The headliner hangs down in shreds from the ceiling and Tyler says, Clawing at the lid of her coffin.

Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.

You had to risk your life to get love. You had to get right to the edge of death to ever be saved.

You always kill the one you love.

Marla's philosophy of life, she told me, is that she can die at any moment. The tragedy of her life is that she doesn't.

When we die, these are the stories still on our lips. The stories we'll only tell strangers, someplace private in the padded cell of midnight. These important stories, we rehearse them for years in our head but never tell. These stories are ghosts, bringing people back from the dead. Just for a moment. For a visit. Every story is a ghost.

If Marilyn Monroe was alive right now, what would she be doing?' Clawing at the roof of her coffin.

We live and we die and anything else is just a delusion.

No, it's not fair, but what makes earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it should feel like Heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You'll find out for yourself soon enough. It won't help the situation for you to get all upset.

Actually, watching television and surfing the Internet are really excellent practice for being dead.

These days, most of the people you hear laughing are dead.

Only in death will we have our own names since only in death are we no longer part of the effort. In death we become heroes.

There are worse things you can do to people you love than kill them.

This isn't really death,' Tyler says. 'We'll be legend. We won't grow old.' I tongue the barrel into my cheek and say, Tyler, you're thinking of vampires.

The lucky ones are just born dead.

It's not true that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. At least, not all of it. Some of your life might flash. Other portions of your life it might take you years and years to recall. That, I think, is the function of Hell: It's a place of remembering. Beyond that, the purpose of Hell is not so much to forget the details of our lives as it is to forgive them.

With my eyes closed, I ask if she knows how this will all turn out. Long-term or short-term? she asks. Both. Long-term, she says, we're all going to die. Then our bodies will rot. No surprise there. Short-term, we're going to live happily ever after. Really? Really, she says. So don't sweat it.

No shit, there's worse ways to be dead than dying.

Someday you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me.

That old saying, how you always kill the one you love, well, look, it works both ways.

The on­ly thing I know is ev­ery­thing you love will die.

If I turn up suicided in the morning, it was murder.

If it is the case that love does survive death, then you may consider this to be a happy ending. Boy meets girl. Boy gets girl. Happily ever after or not.