Quotes About Mortality

He thought of death in its infinite groanings, of Aztecs ripping out living hearts and of cancer and three-year-olds buried alive and he wondered whether God was alien and cruel, but then remembered Beethoven and the dappling of things and "Hurrah for Karamazov" and kindness. He

He thought of death in its infinite groanings, of Aztecs ripping out living hearts and of cancer and three-year-olds buried alive and he wondered whether God was alien and cruel, but then remembered Beethoven and the dappling of things and "Hurrah for Karamazov" and kindness.

To put it coldly, my friends, all the ones who should have died years ago, would have died years ago without beta-blockers, stents, angioplasties, pacemakers, exotic medications, well, now they're dying all at once." John

Taceant Colloquia. Effugiat Risus. Hic Locus Est Ubi Mors Gaudet Succurrere Vitae. [Let idle talk be silenced. Let laughter be banished. Here is the place where Death delights to succour Life.]

Nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death.

Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, And when you laugh, laugh like hell, And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

Everybody has got to die, but I have always believed an exception would be made in my case.

Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.

We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Had I but died an hour before this chance I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,There's nothing serious in mortality, All is but toys; renown and grace is dead, The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.

Insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

The purest treasure mortal times afford, is spotless reputation; that away, men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...

Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

O God! Horatio, what a wounded name,Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me.If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,Absent thee from felicity awhile,And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,To tell my story.

Thou [Death] setter up and plucker down of kings.

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,That Time will come and take my love away.This thought is as a death, which cannot chooseBut weep to have that which it fears to lose.

Hamlet: For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?Polonius: I have, my lord.Hamlet: Let her not walk i' the sun.

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd,No reckoning made, but sent to my accountWith all my imperfections on my head.

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.

There is no sure foundation set on blood,No certain life achiev'd by others' death.

It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,Which gives the stern'st good-night.