Quotes About Mortality

Parfois lorsque je me promène en été, je m'aperçois que j'ai failli marcher sur une espèce de mouche. Je la regarde mieux : c'est une reine fourmi. [...] Combien de cités furent ainsi anéanties, d'un simple coup d'essuie-glace sur une route d'été ?

Cred c? dup? moarte nu mai e nimic. Absolut nimic. Cred c? ajungi nemuritor f?cînd copii, care ei înÅŸiÅŸi vor aduce pe lume alÅ£i copii ÅŸi aÅŸa mai departe... Ei transmit în timp mica noastr? tor??." Surs?: individ chestionat la întîmplare pe strad?.

N"ayez pas peur du kamikaze. Ce qui l'intéresse dans le risque de mort, ce n'est pas le risque, c'est la mort. Ce qu'il aime dans la guerre, ce n'est pas "vaincre ou mourir" mais mourir et ne surtout pas vaincre. Sa grande affaire, ce n'est pas, comme dit Clausewitz, proportionner des efforts à la force de résistance de l'ennemi, le renverser, le réduire - mais mourir. (ch. 16 Debray, Kojève et le prix du sang)

it's such a privilege to not die prematurely

She slipped free crusty pies filled with apple-flavored lumps of sugar to the runaway rent boys she befriended who operated around the station With no idea that in years to come she'd be attending their funerals They didn't realize unprotected sex meant a dance with death Nobody did

although sometimes it seems that she alone among her friends wants to celebrate getting older because it's such a privilege to not die prematurely, she tells them as the night draws in around her kitchen table in her cosy terraced house in Brixton

d'ailleurs, il n'y a pas de quoi avoir honte de vieillir notamment quand toute la race humaine est concernée même si parfois elle semble être la seule parmi ses amies à vouloir fêter les années qui passent parce que c'est un privilège de ne pas mourir prématurément, leur dit-elle (...)

A remembrance can mean nothing to the one remembered; it can only remind the ones left behind how little they did while you were still alive.

Listen, if you choose to believe nothing else that transpires here, believe this: your body does not have a soul; your soul has a body, and souls never, ever die.

she swung like a pendulum, ticking away the seconds until she would be dead.

The motives for sitting up nights on end with the dying are often dubious. A repentant son who never visited his mother more than once a year now takes the opportunity to punish himself for his neglect by not stirring from her side for nights on end, though the poor woman is hardly there any longer in her dying body. For just as at birth we die head first.

Don't be afraid of death so much as an inadequate life.

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already 3-parts dead.

Humans are queer. A man, living and well, is ignored or criticized. Dying or dead, he is noticed and praised. Death sheds a temporary glamour over the poorest soul. It is as though in dying, he has accomplished something which life never gave him.

I stared at the room full of caskets on display-their lids gaping open like hungry mouths, waiting to swallow up the newly departed. I decided I'd much rather exit this world in a crackle of flames and a swirl of smoke through my ribs than be cooped up for all eternity in a dark box surrounded by puffy white satin.

I wonder if maybe death does that -- turns strangers into friends for a few minutes, or an hour, or maybe even a whole day.

All deaths seem terrible to the one who dies.

Because I was too afraid, I walked to the corpse and looked at it. It was bad. Then not so bad—a man turning into bone.

I'd marry again if I found a man who had fifteen million dollars and would sign over half of it to me before the marriage, and guarantee he'd be dead within the year.

Nothing is born which Death makes not subject of his state.

Morn after morn dispels the dark, Bearing our lives away; Absorbed in cares we fail to mark How swift our years decay; Some maddening draught hath drugged our souls, In love with vital breath, Which still the same sad chart unrolls, Birth, eld, disease, and death.

Man is an actor who plays various parts: First comes a boy, then out a lover starts; His garb is changed for, lo! a beggar?s rags; Then he?s a merchant with full money-bags; Anon, an aged sire, wrinkled and lean; At last Death drops the curtain on the scene.*

Just as, when a cow to be slaughtered is led to the shambles, whenever she lifts a leg she will be closer to slaughter, closer to death; even so, brahmins, is human life like cattle doomed to slaughter; it is short, limited, and brief. It is full of suffering, full of tribulation. This one should wisely understand. One should do good and live a pure life; for none who is born can escape death.

Differences in morbidity, mortality, and nutritional status linked to differences in socioeconomic status, caste, class, gender, and geography persist in India.