Quotes About Mortality

Never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.

True and false fears let us refrain, Let us love nobly, and live, and add again Years and years unto years, till we attain To write threescore: this is the second of our reign.

Death, thou shalt die.

O how feeble is man's power, That if good fortune fall, Cannot add another hour, Nor a lost hour recall! But come bad chance, And we join to'it our strength, And we teach it art and length, Itself o'er us to'advance.

That our affections kill us not, nor dye.

Thy sins and hairs may no man equal call, for as thy sins increase, thy hairs do fall.

when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again, for that library where every book shall lie open to one another;

My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.

Send not to know For whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more, death thou shalt die.

Any man's death diminishes me, for I am involved with mankind.

O miserable condition of man, which is not imprinted by God, who, as he is immortal himself, had put a coal, a beam of immortality into us, which we might have blown into a flame, but blew it by our first sin; we beggared ourselves by hearkening after falses riches, and infatuated ourselves by hearkening after false knowledge.

No man ever saw God and lived; and yet, I shall not live till I see God; and when I have seen him I shall never die

No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee.

Death be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadfull, for thou art not so,For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow, die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

He rais'd a mortal to the skies,She drew an angel down.

Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.

I have tried for much of my life to write as if I was composing my sentences to be read posthumously.

My father had died, and very swiftly, too, of cancer of the esophagus. He was 79. I am 61. In whatever kind of a 'race' life may be, I have very abruptly become a finalist.

I don't want to die, obviously, but really, the wonder of life is amplified by the fact that it ends.

Life after death is the elephant in the living room, the one that we are not supposed to notice.

Less base the fear of death than fear of life.

Through the years our business has been killing;-it was our first calling in life. Our knowledge of lif eis limited to death.

It's not the loss of life that makes the death bitter -- it's the obituaries.