Quotes About Mortality

Certainly, the mistakes that we male and female mortals make when we have our own way might fairly raise some wonder that we're so fond of it.

Worldly faces never look so worldly as at a funeral.

Then since we mortal lovers are, Ask not how long our love may last; But while it does, let us take care Each minute be with pleasure passed: Were it not madness to deny To live because we're sure to die?

Were it not madness to deny To live because we're sure to die?

Death comes to all But great achievements raise a monument Which shall endure until the sun grows old.

Sentient beings are spectacular liars. We are gifted with an unparalleled ability to deny things that make our life unpleasant. We even pretend death isn't a certainty, because contemplating our own mortality drives us mad.

Well, if he wasn't dead, he definitely wasn't happy. Great, I've turned into my mother. That's what she would say.

I survived. Had I hit my head on the wall when Rutger had thrown me, I could've died today. Right now I could be dead instead of sitting here in my office, twenty feet from my home. My mom could be in the morgue, identifying me on a slab. My heart pounded in my chest. Nausea crept up, squeezing my throat. I leaned forward and concentrated on breathing. Deep, calm breaths. I just had to let myself work through it. In and out. In and out. Slowly the anxiety receded. In and out.

Eventually Victoria will die. She's old. And that didn't sound morbid. Not at all.

What good is immortality if the people you love can't be there with you?

Breath caught in my chest. I realized with absolute clarity that one day I was going to die. One day I would no longer be here. All the things I wanted, all my thoughts, all my worries—all of it would be gone with me, lost forever. There were so many things I wanted to do. So much I still wanted to see. I had to hold on to it. I had to hold on to every short second of life. Every breath was a gift, gone forever to the cold stars the moment

The gate was open, and Ponytail sprawled on the ground. A hoof-sized hole gaped in his skull, and black flies crawled on his bloody hair. Next to him Tulip waited with a docile expression, looking like th

Breath caught in my chest. I realized with absolute clarity that one day I was going to die. One day I would no longer be here. All the things I wanted, all my thoughts, all my worries—all of it would be gone with me, lost forever. There were so many things I wanted to do. So much I still wanted to see. I had to hold on to it. I had to hold on to every short second of life. Every breath was a gift, gone forever to the cold stars the moment I exhaled.

Human life has sorrow; They who meet must part; He that is born must die;

Happiness is the change that comes over me when I describe the world It comes over the world Happiness is the change that comes over me when I'm afraid It comes over the world For instance I can be afraid of and for the world afraid because the world consists among other things of me so swiftly dying

For there comes a time in life when the pity previously reserved only for children takes on a different form, a time when we study the faces of 'old people' and sense that one day we will be just like them. And that is the moment when early childhood comes to an end.

Tutti e due pensavano ai giovani – i loro fratelli, i loro amici – le cui ossa erano in decomposizione sotto terra, nelle innumerevoli fosse comuni. Loro, i sopravvissuti, adesso lo sapevano, di essere mortali. È una lezione che di solito si impara da adulti, ma quelli che hanno dovuto apprenderla a vent'anni non la scordano più. Ah, com'era importante affrettarsi a respirare, baciare, bere, fare l'amore!

Come sempre, quando si attende la morte di qualcuno che non è necessario alla propria esistenza, al proprio respiro, si pensa più a se stessi che alla persona in fin di vita.

To fully and authentically affirm life, we must affirm all of life, including dying, death, and grief.

As we live our precarious lives on the brink of the void, constantly coming closer to a state of nonbeing, we are all too often aware of our fragitlity.

How different each death is, and yet it leads us into the self-same country, that country which we inhabit so rarely, where we see the worthlessness of what we have long pursued and will so soon return to pursuing.

But death is not easy, and life can win by simulating it.

You rail on us all for not being saints. Yes, yes, yes. And when I stop that railing I shall be dead. It is the only thing I know and I shall cry it out again and again, like a tedious little bird with only one song.

The presence of the loved one is perhaps always accompanied by anxiety. Mortals must tremble, where angels might enjoy. But this one grain of darkness cannot be accounted a blemish. It graces the present moment with a kind of violence which makes an ecstasy of time.