Quotes About Mortality

We are all ageing and eventually we are all going to end up in the same place. It is okay to get older and look older. It doesn't make you any less of a human being or any less beautiful.

I don't have a fear of aging or a fear of death.

I want to put out as many albums as I can before I die.

As long as you keep getting born, it's alright to die some times.

Ageing's alright, better than the alternative, which is not being here.

I suppose if your parents die in their 50s and you are approaching 50, you see that you are definitely not in the first half of your life any more.

Prince had always told us he just wanted to get through this thing called life. But now that his own physical life has ended, his artistic life will continue.

The neck which was short and thick, seemed to tempt the axe.

he began to weep on his own account. Observing this grief, the abbe dried his pupil's tears, bidding him observe that the good woman took her snuff most offensively, and was becoming so ugly and deaf and tedious that he ought to return thanks for her death.

Art can go no further than this. Art has risen above Nature, since Nature only gives her creatures a few brief years of life.

Even so, step by step the daylight decreases, and the cicerone's droning voice grows hollower as the traveler descends into the Catacombs. The comparison holds good! Who shall say which is more ghastly, the sight of the bleached skulls or of dried-up human hearts?

finding that art is long and life is short — ars longa et vita brevis — did not commit the mistake of wasting their time and lessening their powers of creation by silly and insipid intrigues.

Death is as unexpected in his caprice as a courtesan in her disdain; but death is truer – Death has never forsaken any man

We've been lucky," he said, rising from his chair with his palm pressed against his forehead as he heard the ambulance attendants on the front path outside. "We had her four months longer than she was expected to live." Lucky? I thought, as I stood behind an emergency room curtain an hour later, holding my mother's hand and trying to press ice chips between her cracked and bloodstained lips. Could someone identify the lucky people here?

Poetry and visions, springing as they do from an ever-present sense of mortality, might easily appear morbid to the sturdy common sense of a burgher-class in the making.

Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings.

We are but dust and shadow.

Think to yourself that every day is your last; the hour to which you do not look forward will come as a welcome surprise. As for me, when you want a good laugh, you will find me, in a fine state, fat and sleek, a true hog of Epicurus' herd.

Years, following years, steal something every day; At last they steal us from ourselves away.

The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.

Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings.

Remember you must die whether you sit about moping all day long or whether on feast days you stretch out in a green field, happy with a bottle of Falernian from your innermost cellar.

Life's brief span forbids us to enter on far-reaching hopes.

Nothing is too high for the daring of mortals: we storm heaven itself in our folly.