Quotes About Mortality

My house will only be a shell for my body. I don't want anyone to breathe my air with me, to disturb my dust.

To live in this world you must be able to do three things, to love what is mortal: to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it and when the time comes let it go

I guess I'm thinking of myself here. I am tired. I am the one who asks, is death only the frozen image we have of the animal's body?...Maybe roadkills are more than they seem. Messages...

Her life was as finite as the earth, but her love reaches beyond the stars.

I wondered if, at the end, she had known that she was dying, if she'd been in pain or if she'd been afraid, and I thought about how, in spite of all the ways we were different, Drue had spent a lot of her life being lonely… just like me.

Bis heute setzen die älteren Frauen sich vor Sonnenaufgang, noch in der Nacht, unter freiem Himmel hin und singen: Auch wenn einer reich und vermögend ist, ist der Tod ihm nahe. Der Tod ist größer als die Zeit, er umfängt sie. Gerade jetzt sendet er seine Pfeile aus, Sie gehen nieder in die Mitte der Herde.

No really. If you only have seven years left, that means the Reaper will be dropping round for tea and buns in about 61,000 hours from now. You therefore shouldn't be wasting time by pootling to the garden centre at walking pace. So come on, grandad. The clock's ticking. Pedal to the metal. Or you'll be in your flowerbed before the plants you bought.

Such is life; and we are but as grass that is cut down, and put into the oven and baked.

Such is life; and we are but as grass that is cut down, and put into the oven and baked. To

Of course we all try and save time. Cutting corners, little short cuts. But no matter how much time you save, at the end of your life, there's no extra time saved up. You'll be going what do you mean there's no time?

As a boy I got the idea that death was an animal which lay curled inside waiting to swallow us.

No one likes a dying man, Chauncey, because few know what death is. All we know is the terror of it.

And yet, with all its life, even at the peak of its bloom, the garden was its own graveyard. Under every tree and bush lay rotten trunks and disintegrated and decomposing roots. It was hard to know which was more important: the garden's surface or the graveyard from which it grew and into which it was constantly lapsing. For

Maybe it's ALWAYS the end of the world. Maybe you're alive for a while, and then you realize you're going to die, and that's such an insane thing to comprehend, you look around for answers and the only answer is that the world must die with you.

Maybe it's being close to the end, but I have this desire to pull Greg aside—to pull all my children aside, and my grandchildren—and to whisper something profound, to pass on the great wisdom I've acquired. Something that would open their hearts and create in them an unassailable courage, a generosity of spirit, faith in humanity.

First, her father had a minor stroke, giving Claire a glimpse of his mortality and, by extension, her own. And then she had a vision of herself thirty years in the future: a spinster librarian in an apartment full of cats named after New Wave directors. (Godard, leave Rivette's chew toy alone—)

And it's a life with no shortage of moments to recommend it, a life that picks up speed like a boulder rolling down a hill, easy and natural and comfortable, and yet beyond control somehow; it all happens so fast, you wake a young man and at lunch are middle-aged and by dinner you can imagine your death.

God, this life is a cold, brittle thing. And yet it's all there is.

Os hospitais tentam vender centros de parto, os infantários vendem amor, as escolas vendem sucesso... os vendedores de carros promovem o luxo, os conselheiros a autoestima, as massagistas oferecem finais felizes, os cemitérios anunciam o repouso eterno... É interminável, esta febre de vender, promover, exaltar - constante, esgotante, e implacável como a morte.

Nothing quite brings out the zest for life in a person like the thought of their impending death

I happen to have a certain fondness for existing--soda wouldn't have that lovely fizzy feeling if you were dead. Think of all the things you would miss: Cartoons, music, movies, video games, music, art, fingernail growth, sex...well, perhaps not sex, depending on how weird your mortician is.

As strange as it seemed, I knew in my heart that one day her death would affect me, and stranger still, that mine would affect her.

human being could be alive for years and years, thinking and breathing and eating, full of a million worries and feelings and thoughts, taking up space in the world, and then, in an instant, become absent, invisible.

Plato says the purpose of philosophy is to teach us how to die.