Quotes About Mortality

Suddenly, he needed the gun again, to touch the shape of killing, like touching that wild old man.

Los libros nos recuerdan que somos unos asnos y unos tontos. Son la guardia pretoriana del César, que murmura mientras los desfiles pasan ruidosamente por las avenidas: «Recuerda, César, que eres mortal».

What killed them?" Hathaway said simply, "Chicken pox.

Mogu nabaviti knjige. -Izlažete se pogibelji. -To je dobra strana umiranja: kad nemate što izgubiti, izlažete se svakoj pogibelji kojoj želite. str. 86.

I don't want any Halloween parties here tomorrow. Don't want anyone saying anything sweet about me; I said it all in my time and my pride. I've tasted every victual and danced every dance; now there's one last tart I haven't bit on, one tune I haven't whistled. But I'm not afraid. I'm truly curious. Death won't get a crumb by my mouth I won't keep and savor. So don't you worry over me. Now, all of you go, and let me find my sleep...

Somehow, irresistibly, the prime thing was: nothing mattered. Life in the end seemed a prank of such size you could only stand off at this end of the corridor to note its meaningless length and its quite unnecessary height, a mountain built to such ridiculous immensities you were dwarfed in its shadow and mocking of its pomp. So with death this near he thought numbly but purely upon a billion vanities, arrivals, departures, idiot excursions of boy, boy-man, man and old-man goat.

Do you know the legend of Hercules and Antaeus, the giant wrestler, whose strength was incredible so long as he stood firmly on the earth? But when he was held, rootless, in midair, by Hercules, he perished easily. If there isn't something in that legend for us today, in this city, in our time, then I am completely insane.

Death makes everything else sad. But death itself only scares. If there wasn't death, all other things wouldn't get tainted.

Y cuando murió, comprendí que yo no lloraba por él, sino por todas las cosas que hacía. Lloraba porque nunca volvería a hacerlas.

Todos temos que abandonar algo quando morremos, dizia-me o meu avô. Uma criança, um livro, um quadro, uma casa, um muro ou um par de sapatos. Ou um jardim acabado de plantar. Algo que tenhamos tocado de uma certa forma, para que a nossa alma possa ter um sítio para onde ir quando morrermos. E quando depois olharem para essa árvore ou essa flor que plantámos, é como se olhassem para nós.

Los libros están para recordarnos lo tontos y estúpidos que somos. Son la guardia pretoriana de César, susurrando mientras tiene lugar el desfile por la avenida: «Recuerda, César, eres mortal.»

Birinin öldüÄŸünü bildiÄŸinizde, ard?nda b?rakt??? hava, yapt???n?z her hareketi, soluk alp veriÅŸinizi bile engeller.

Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did. I was crying because he would never do them again...

Los libros nos recuerdan que somos asnos y tontos. Son la guardia pretoriana del César, que murmura mientras los desfiles pasan ruidosamente por las avenidas Recuerda, César, que eres mortal

They were the men with the leather-ribbon whips who sweated up the Pyramids, seasoning it with other people's salt and other people's cracked hearts. They coursed Europe on the White Horses of the Plague. They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers at half-price in the grand March sale.

Why, we're just petty insects, all of us, fighting on a pinhead planet.

Everything of this world is shakable. Buildings crumble into dust, companies declare bankruptcy, our degrees fade into illegibility, our houses age and creak and crumble, our cars rust out, and worst of all, our bodies eventually wear out. But the kingdom of God lasts forever. When the angel Gabriel came to Mary, he said that she would give birth to a Son who would "rule over the house of his father Jacob, and of his kingdom there will be no end" (Luke 1:33).

in this wonderful human brain of ours there has dawned a realization unknown to the other primates. It is that of the individual, conscious of himself as such, and aware that he, and all that he cares for, will one day die. Fig. 2.2 — Neanderthal Burial This recognition of mortality and the requirement to transcend it is the first great impulse to mythology.

suffering," he said, "is mortality itself, which is the prime condition of life.

matinees had borrowed freely from those ancient tales. And that the stories we learned in Sunday school corresponded with those of other cultures that recognized the soul's high adventure, the quest of mortals to grasp the reality of God. He helped me to see the connections, to understand how the pieces fit, and not merely to fear less but to welcome what he described as "a mighty multicultural future.

And after all, one does not die of it. Die of what? I asked swiftly. Of being afraid.

Every age is fed on illusions, lest men should renounce life early and the human race come to an end.

I must live until I die, mustn't I?