Quotes About Mortality

Cease, Man, to mourn, to weep, to wail; enjoy thy shining hour of sun; We dance along Death's icy brink, but is the dance less full of fun?

Hardly we find the path of love, to sink the self, forget the "I," When sad suspicion grips the heart, when Man, the Man begins to die:

The created World is but a small Parenthesis in Eternity.

Sleep is a death; oh, make me try By sleeping what it is to die, And as gently lay my head On my grave as now my bed!

We term sleep a death, and yet it is waking that kills us, and destroys those spirits that are the house of life.

We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.

Times before you, when even living men were antiquities; when the living might exceed the dead, and to depart this world could not be properly said to go unto the greater number.

Even such is time, that takes in trustOur youth, our joys, our all we have,And pays us but with age and dust;Who in the dark and silent grave,When we have wandered all our ways,Shuts up the story of our days.And from which earth, and grave, and dust,The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.

The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?

My mother's idiosyncratic definition of the word is the following: we all suffer and we all die."Never, ever," my mother said to me when I was eleven,"say 'pass away' for 'to die.' People die. They don't evaporate.

The Five lived in a ferocious present because unlike the young, who entertain their finality in a remote, philosophical way, these women knew that death was not abstract.

Unato? tim trenuta?nim uvidima u ne?iji život, platna i materijali na njima imali su neku apstraktnu odliku, krajnju prazninu koja je izražavala bizarnost same smrtnosti, osje?aj da, ?ak i ako sa?uvamo svaku mrvicu života, nagomilamo ih na divovsku hrpu, a potom pažljivo prosijemo da izvu?emo sva mogu?a zna?enja, sve to zajedno opet ne?e sastaviti jedan život.

Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me.

He whom the gods love dies young, whilst he is full of health, perception, and judgment. [Lat., Quem dii diligunt, Adolescens moritur, dum valet, sentit, sapit.]

Love and death are the great gifts that are given to us; mostly they are passed on unopened.

Six hundred and forty fish later, the only thing I know is everything you love will die. The first time you meet someone special, you can count on them one day being dead and in the ground.

And the story of love is a long sad tale ending in graves.

Each man is master of his own death, and all that we can do when the time comes is to help him die without fear of pain.

Why is it we have so little choice? We live like the lowliest worms. Always defeated - defeated we make dinner, we eat, we sleep. Everyone we love is dying. Sill, to cease living is unacceptable.

I am strong against everything, except against the death of those I love. He who dies gains; he who sees others die loses.

The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn.

Death makes a beautiful appeal to charity. When we look upon the dead form, so composed and still, the kindness and the love that are in us all come forth.

The body will blossom and fade, but you will remain after this body of yours has gone away. This knowledge allows you to love the body without attachment. Thus, the body becomes absolutely pure.

Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.