Quotes About Mortality

I wished that my own bones were unbound, I wished they were mingling, picked clean by fish, with the bones of another body, a body my bones and heart and soul had loved with unfathomable certainty for decades, and both of us down deep now, lost to everything but the fact of bare bones on a dark seabed.

Whatever age you are, he says. You still die young.

Regrets when you're dead? A past when you're dead? Is there never any escaping the junkyard of the self?

An idiolect. That's what he is, a language no one else alive in the world speaks. He is the last living speaker of himself. He's been too blithe, he'd forgotten for a whole train journey, for almost a whole day, that he himself is dead as a disappeared grammar, a graveyard scatter of phonemes and morphemes.

Végül is elég kellemes halottnak lenni. Nagyon alulértékelik a modern nyugati világban.

Looking in the mirror suddenly she thinks that we all know our dates of birth but that every year there is another date that we pass over without knowing what it is but it is just as important it is the other date the death date.

Say that the berries on a tree fermented / say that some birds ate them got drunk demented / couldn't fly straight flew straight into instead / wall of an office block and fell down dead / down on the pavement people undeterred / stepping over the mound of broken bird

human beings can't be legends, being mortal

It takes a death sometimes to make us all live a bit more, Iris says.

before she had died she had been young, like him, and not yet been onced by life. Today

there's nothing left of them, the pantomime innocents or the man with the gun, but bones in grass, bones in flowers, the leafy branches of the ash tree above them. Which s what, in the end, is left of us all, whether we carry a gun while we're here or don't. So. While we're here. I mean, while we're still here.

the little death. What would or could be left of a human being after such an experience?

Death alone gives meaning to life, and you will never fully live until you know you must die. And make your peace with that knowledge.

Life is just a short walk from the cradle to the grave, and it sure behooves us to be kind to one another along the way.

I don't want to feel you die, but if that's the way that God has planned you Well, I'll put pennies on your eyes. And it will go away, see? You've only lived a minute of your life. I must be dreaming... Is someone calling me? No... I think I hear a voice, They're outside the door!

How old, how commonplace To look upon the face Of your first-born, and glory in your lot. To look upon his face And understand your place Among the unknown dead in churchyards lying, To see the reason why You lived and why you die-- Even to find a certain grace in dying.

Isn't it funny how we all die at the same time? Always at the end of our lives. Why worry?

His eyes went again to the crucifix above his head, reflected in the mirror. The strained arms, the arched spine. All that effort to open the gates of heaven for us and we (he thought) probably spend our first hours among the heavenly hosts settling old scores with relatives.

oh each poet's a beautiful human girl who must die.

And maybe you can't know me now. Maybe I'm just blood. Whatever that's for.

I create death, and time.

I am a skeleton. I have a skull with an artifice of fire in its eyes.

I wonder who I will know when I die, if anyone.

At any moment a force from nowhere could rip me out of my life. I could die of traffic or weather, I could die of war or my heart.