Quotes About Mortality

I am simply a wounded and dying man. Who can be more regal than a dying man?

I wish I could make you like death a little more. It's a great preserver. Without it the loveliest things change slowly into face, as you will discover if you insist on having much more life.

The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears, for there's no risk of accident for someone who's dead.

I want to go when I want. It is tasteless to prolong life artificially. I have done my share, it is time to go. I will do it elegantly.

live as if you were to die tommorow. dream as if you were to live forever

How strange is the lot of us mortals! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people.

Come si può mettere la Nona di Beethoven in un diagramma cartesiano? Ci sono delle realtà che non sono quantificabili. L'universo non è i miei numeri: è pervaso tutto dal mistero. Chi non ha il senso del mistero è un uomo mezzo morto.

Je ne veux pas et Je ne peux pas concevoir un être qui survivrait à la mort de son corps.

Hours before his death in 1955 from a ruptured abdominal aortic ayeurysm, Albert Einstein's doctors proposed trying a new and unproven surgery as a final option for extending his life. Einstein refused. I have done my share, he said. It is time to go. I will do it elegantly.

Gustavo Solivellas dice: Elige a personas mayores para que sean tus enemigos. Ellos mueren. Tú ganas (Albert Einstein)

Michele has left this strange world a little before me. This means nothing.

our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life

The strange things about growing old is that the intimate identification with the here and now is slowly lost. One feels transposed into infinity, more or less alone.

A day or so before his death, Borges called Bioy from Geneva. Bioy said that he sounded infinitely sad. "What are you doing in Geneva? Come home," Bioy said to him. "I can't," Borges answered. "And anyway, any place is good enough to die in." Bioy said that in spite of their friendship, he felt, as a writer, hesitant to touch such a good exit line.

Who lives longer? The man who takes heroin for two years and dies, or a man who lives on roast beef, water and potatoes 'till 95? One passes his 24 months in eternity. All the years of the beefeater are lived only in time.

If you're always scared of dying, Obispo had said, you'll surely die. Fear's a poison; and not such a slow poison either.

Grief doesn't kill, love doesn't kill; but time kills everything, kills desire, kills sorrow, kills in the end the mind that feels them; wrinkels and softens the body while it still lives, tots it like a medlar, kills it too at last.

He had discovered Time and Death and God.

One thinks one's something unique and wonderful at the center of the universe. But in fact one's merely a slight delay in the ongoing march of entropy.

Te obiÅŸnuieÅŸti ÅŸi cu asta, repet? el. Cincizeci la sut? din consol?rile filosofiei în cinci cuvinte. Iar cealalt? jum?tate poate fi exprimat? în ÅŸase: când eÅŸti mort, eÅŸti mort, frate. Sau, dac? preferi, o poÅ£i exprima în opt: nici când eÅŸti mort, frate, nu eÅŸti mort.

El mejor de los descansos es el sueño; y tú a menudo lo buscas; sin embargo, temes torpemente la muerte, que es la misma cosa.

Incidental, m-am aflat ÅŸi eu în prim?var? foarte aproape de judecata final?. De fapt, nici nu aÅŸ mai fi aici dac? n-ar fi existat penicilina. Pneumonia, prietena b?trâneÅ£ii. Ast?zi medicina te învie ca s? poÅ£i tr?i bucurându-te de arterioscleroz? sau de cancerul prostatei. AÅŸa c?, precum vezi, totul este cu des?vârÅŸire postum. Cu excepÅ£ia mea, sunt morÅ£i cu toÅ£ii iar eu tr?iesc din timp împrumutat.

At the city gates a corpse or two hung, moldering, from the municipal gallows. Within the walls, there were the usual dirty streets, the customary gamut of smells, from wood smoke to excrement, from geese to incense, from baking bread to horses, swine and unwashed humanity. Peasants

Ignore death up to the last moment; then, when it can't be ignored any longer, have yourself squirted full of morphia and shuffle off in a coma. Thoroughly sensible, humane and scientific, eh?