Quotes About Mortality

He was a boy dying here whom few would remember except for me.

I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over my lips, my hands!

Did you see her as she took Lestat for her lover? Did you see her as sought to frighten mortals with her petty displays of power?

I wanted this mortal companion precisely because I had put myself into the mortal world.

All life seeks rebirth when removed from the mortal realm. All life, through its very nature, returns.

matter that we all die, and do not know where we go when we die, or if a justice or explanation awaits us.

Mad, roaming the streets in rags, he shut out the world almost to the point of death, and I, weak, muddled, tormented by his beauty and lusting for the living man and not the vampire he might become, only brought him over to us through the working of the Dark Trick because he would have died otherwise.

Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold.

I'm now privy to a great truth. Our souls, the souls we believe to be part and parcel of our bodies, are immortal, and those souls follow their own path. I possess a soul that once belonged to another, and after I die, that soul will travel on. Most human beings live and die without ever having such a great truth revealed to them. But it has been revealed to me.

Besides, the old man was out of shape, smoked and drank--a walking heart attack.

It makes you wonder why we bother accumulating, accumulating, when we know from earliest childhood how it's all going to end.

I used to toy with the notion that when we die we find out what our lives have amounted to, finally. I'd never imagined that we could find that out when somebody else dies.

Ah, God, it's barbaric, however you look at it,' he told Ruth. 'What, cremation?' she asked. 'Death.

The trouble with dying is you don't get to stay around and see how everything turns out.

He had begun to have spells lately of worrying that he had died, and that everyone knew it but him.

We live such tangled, fraught lives, he thought, but in the end we die like all the other animals and we're buried in the ground and after a few years we might as well not have existed. This should have depressed him, but instead it made him feel better. The light turned green and he started driving again.

It was her first inkling that her generation was part of the stream of time. Just like the others ahead of them, they would grow up and grow old and die. Already there was a younger generation prodding them from behind.

The striking thing about death, she thought, was its eventfulness. It made you see you were leading a real life. Real life at last! you could say. Was that why she read the obituaries each morning, hunting familiar names? Was that why she carried on those hushed, awed conversations with the other workers when one of the nursing home patients was carted away in a hearse?

He had been forty-three years old—too young to think of making funeral plans. So all of that was left to Willa

The trouble with dying," she'd told Jeannie once, "is that you don't get to see how everything turns out. You won't know the ending." "But, Mom, there is no ending," Jeannie said. "Well, I know that," Abby said. In theory.

Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?

No, the point is not only does time fly and do we die, but that in these reckless conditions we live at all, and are vouchsafed, for the duration of certain inexplicable moments, to know it.

Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation's short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.

To dust is only to forestall burial