Quotes About Mortality

Does your heart keep swelling to make room for all the loves you have through life, until it swells so big it bursts, and you die?

Death and irrelevance are coming to all of us.

Quite clearly. Also a few where you die tomorrow. Actually the next couple of months are quite perilous for you altogether.

Sitting beside a deathbed, staring into the face of life's fragility, leaves us no secure corner to hide. It is always a powerful wake-up call.

No matter what we do in this life, all the information we gather and all the knowledge we accumulate and all the effort we make to amass wealth through work and business—when the time comes for us to leave this life, all of it is futile and in vain. It will not help us in any way whatsoever. I can easily say this since I am not educated at all! So I can smile and act big about this. Don't be angry, please.

Bless me to sincerely be aware of death.

elderly guests were already setting about their business--the business, that is to say, of those who in fact had no business on this earth save that of cautiously steering their respective failing bodies along paths free from discomfort and illness in the direction of the final illness which would exterminate them.

For oh dear, it is a spartan business, this growing old, this cleaving to life, because it demands that you jettison so much that once had been the very zest and pith of life, and why? So that life, pithless, and sans zest , may continue, and the flesh, oh, the flesh, the sins of the flesh - they are as motes in a fading sunbeam. And how I do miss them.

Nobody touches you after seventy except doctors, as a rule. A sister, if you're lucky enough to have one. Undertakers.

He considered old age and its mutilations and wondered what it would do for him: examples presented themselves to his mind, not only of mental decay, physical weakness, gout, stone and rheumatism, but of boastful mendacious garrulity, intense and peevish selfishness; timidity if not cowardice, dirt, concupiscence, avarice.

nunc et in hora mortis nostrae,' he repeated yet again, and felt the lap of water on his foot. He looked up. The people had gone; the pyre was no more than a dark patch with the sea hissing in its embers; and he was alone. The tide was rising fast.

In fact he was quite pleased with it: one of the few female corpses he had seen with that curious quasicalcification of the palmar aponeuroses – fresh, too – but since it was only the hands that interested him at the moment, would either of his colleagues choose to go snacks?

He considered old age and its mutilations and wondered what it would do for him:

Sometimes you receive a knock in action: it may be your death-wound or just a scratch

Death is always on its way, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life....we get to think of life as an inexhaustable well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times...How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet is all seems limitless.

Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really.

Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It's that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don't know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well.

Everybody lives inside his or her movie. Mine had usually seemed a light comedy. Then I noticed the first dead bee on the driveway.

None of us is going to get out of this world alive.

To die is to depart, to go away from these things forever and become one with the generations that have preceded us since the beginning of time, a whispered memory in the bones and whiskers of the generations to come.

be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world, even though you have done nothing to deserve it. And when you resent the ache in your heart, remember: You will be dead and buried soon enough.

And as the ax bites into the wood, be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world, even though you have done nothing to deserve it. And when you resent the ache in your heart, remember: You will be dead and buried soon enough.

Legends simply don't live or die like men

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