Quotes About Mortality

He reaches up and presses my hand to his face. 'It's funny, isn't it, how I mocked you for your mortality when you're certain to outlive me.' 'You're not going to die,' I insist. 'Oh, how many times have I wished that you couldn't lie? Never more than now.

At least Oak would not grow up as I have, with death as my birthright

You're mortal,' he informs me. In his other hand, he's carrying an empty goblet, tipped over absently, as though he's forgotten he still carries it. 'It's not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.

A fly buzzed over her shoulder making her think of the bodies inside, at the way the flies would be landing on them, at the opalescent maggots that would hatch and tunnel, multiplying endlessly, spreading like an infection until black flies covered the room in a shifting carpet, until all anyone could hear was the whirring of their glassy wings.

The most infuriating part was that she didn't have to mean it. She was mortal. She could lie. So why wouldn't she?

He looked down at a red book, embossed in gold. The title was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass. He frowned at it in confusion. It wasn't what he'd thought a mortal book would be like; he thought they would be dull things, odes to their cars or skyscrapers. ... 'This is really a mortal book?' he asked.

They are beautiful and terrible, and they might despise my mortality, might mock it, but I am up here and they are not.

No matter how careful I am, eventually I'll make another misstep. I am weak. I am fragile. I am mortal. I hate that most of all.

It'll rot,' I say. 'And so will we.

You are mortal. You will not last long.' ... 'That's what mortal means,' I say with a sigh that I don't have to fake. 'We die. Think of us like shooting stars, brief but bright.

Here's why I don't like these stories: They highlight that I am vulnerable. No matter how careful I am, eventually I'll make another misstep. I am weak. I am fragile. I am mortal. I hate that most of all.

Que la muerte sea tu única compañera.

Why should death discriminate between age and youth, you mean?" he asked calmly. "Death has his favorites, like anyone. Those who are beloved of Death will not die.

It was so beautiful to know that I would go on forever, and so terrible to know that the part of me that fought through the pain of existence as Cadence Drake would never be only Cadence Drake beyond the few brief, flickering instants that my fragile fleshself survived. I would be absorbed into the greater whole and would cease to exist.

He lives not long who battles with the immortals, nor do his children prattle about his knees when he has come back from battle and the dread conflict.

I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown.

And they die an equal death — the idler and the man of mighty deeds.

It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. In his death all things appear fair. But when dogs shame the gray head and gray chin and nakedness of an old man killed, it is the most piteous thing that happens among wretched mortals.

He lives not long who battles with the immortals, nor do his children prattle about his knees when he has come back from battle and the dread fray.

Thus have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals that they live in grief while they themselves are without cares for two jars stand on the floor of Zeus of the gifts which he gives, one of evils and another of blessings.

Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.

Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you - it's born with us the day that we are born.

No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man's hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born.