Quotes About Mortality

Siempre le había parecido muy peligroso, terriblemente peligroso, vivir, aunque fuera solo un día.

Deveria o dedo da morte ser posto, de tempos em tempos, sobre o tumulto da vida para evitar que ela nos esfacele? Seríamos feitos de tal forma que precisamos experimentar a morte em pequenas doses diárias para poder continuar exercendo o ofício de viver?

Quanh Ä'ây, nó nghÄ©, kh?a nh?ng ngón tay c?a nó trong lòng nÆ°á»›c, có má»™t con thuy?n Ä'ã b? ??m, nó th?m thì má»™t cách mÆ¡ màng, ná»­a mê ná»­a t?nh, chúng ta b? m?ng t?ng ng??i, Ä'Æ¡n Ä'á»™c bi?t bao.

Qué enemigo percibimos ahora avanzando hacia nosotros, tú, sobre quien ahora cabalgo, mientras piafamos en este pavimento? Es la muerte. La muerte es el enemigo. Es la muerte contra la que cabalgo, lanza en ristre y melena al viento, como un hombre joven, como Percival cuando galopaba en la India. Pico espuelas. ¡Contra ti me lanzaré, entero e invicto, oh Muerte!

Now glancing this side, that side, they looked deeper, beneath the flowers, down the dark avenues into the unlit world where the leaf rots and the flower has fallen.

You're growing old together," she said to me. "You and what frightens you.

I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

You know, what's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own.

Life is just one small piece of light between two eternal darknesses.

A thousand years ago five minutes were Equal to forty ounces of fine sand. Outstare the stars. Infinite foretime and Infinite aftertime: above your head They close like giant wings, and you are dead.

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one he is heading for.

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane...

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain By the false azure in the windowpane; I was the smudge of ashen fluff -and I Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.

Beauty plus pity-that is the closest we can get to a definition of art. Where there is beauty there is pity for the simple reason that beauty must die: beauty always dies, the manner dies with the matter, the world dies with the individual.

Measure me while I live - after it will be too late.

It is certainly not then—not in dreams—but when one is wide awake, in moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness, that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits, from the mast, from the past and its castle tower. And although nothing much can be seen through the mist, there is somehow the blissful feeling that one is looking in the right direction.

Comme un fou se croit Dieu, nous nous croyons mortels.

Death, he had said on another occasion, seems to be merely a bad habit, which nature is at present powerless to overcome.

Nothing on earth really matters, there is nothing to fear, and death is but a question of style, a mere literary device, a musical resolution.

For we die every day; oblivion thrives Not on dry thighbones but on blood-ripe lives, And our best yesterdays are now foul piles Of crumpled names, phone numbers and foxed files.

the compensation for a death sentence is knowledge of the exact hour when one is to die.

a halál nem több, csak a magány végtelen töredékeinek teljesebb kollekciója.

As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform... them... that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude.