Quotes About Mortality

The world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms timidly, and struggles to the light amid the thorns.

He came out of nothingness, took form, was loved, was always bound to return to nothingness.

Trap. Horrible trap. At one's birth it is sprung. Some last day must arrive. When you will need to get out of this body. Bad enough. Then we bring a baby here. The terms of the trap are compounded. That baby also must depart. All pleasures should be tainted by that knowledge. But hopeful dear us, we forget. Lord, what is this?

Sermon: Why this surprising? Did you think you were going to live forever? Only difference between you, sitting there anticipating rest of your day, and Todd, in coffin, bound for eternal home in cold earth? Is heartbeat. Feel that, people? In your chests? This is thin line between you and grave. So why do you live like you are eternal? That foolish, you are fools. This scary? This not scary! This truth, this reality!

At the core of each lay suffering; our eventual end, the many losses we must experience on the way to that end.

Though on the surface it seemed every person was different, this was not true. At the core of each lay suffering; our eventual end, the many losses we must experience on the way to that end. We must try to see one another in this way. As suffering, limited beings -- Perennially outmatched by circumstance, inadequately endowed with compensatory graces.

Death very much on my mind tonight, future reader. Can it be true? That I will die? That Pam, kids will die? Is awful. Why were we put here, so inclined to love, when end of our story = death? That harsh. That cruel Do not like.

We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we're not separate, and don't want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving.

Sweetie, no one is coming. To see how good we have done/are doing. It is just us. Forever. Until a flood gets us or the air or food stops coming. What a joke, the way we live. The worry, the suspicion, the stress, the meanness. I keep dreaming that these dead are telling me what they would do if they could come back. What nobody has said so far: Rat out more folks and kick harder when asked.

Trap. Horrible trap. At one's birth it is sprung. Some last day must arrive. When you will need to get out of this body. Bad enough. Then we bring a baby here. The terms of the trap are compounded. That baby also must depart. All pleasures should be tainted by that knowledge. But hopeful dear us, we forget.

When will I death? Might I death alone? Probably yes Little scared about that. I must say But am not death yet Not dead yet. Not yet. And not yet. World lays out before me new with each click of step and swish of aspen leaves above for that I say thanks For as long as world is shiny new there is no death and what lovely may I not yet do?

En nuevas formas, el hombre del siglo XXI sigue luchando con el aterrador vacío de la extinción.

La gran maestra de la democracia es la muerte. Todo

Las narraciones son ensayos para la muerte.

As a breath on glass, - As witch-fires that burn, The gods and monsters pass, Are dust, and return. ("The Face of the Skies")

Till her appointed course be run; Till on the darkness faint her breath Flown to the silent void, and Death Sit crowned upon the ashen sun. ("The Testimony of the Suns")

Be sure that head and heart were laid In wisdom down, content to die. Be sure he faced the Starless Sky Unduped, unmurmuring, unafraid. ("The Passing of Bierce")

death]...the abyss from where no traveler is permitted to return

If we are to die, it will be from internal failures, from the ungovernable dark places of the mind – the scaffolding left over from evolution's bloody building program.

The emotional element which gives an obsessive value to communal existence is death.

I felt as if I were living only in order to be more aware that I was dead.

you will recognize happines when you see it die

Tu n'est pas mort et la mort même ne saurait te délivrer...

Is it not strange how quickly one can become detached from everything? How empty life appears when one is close to death!