Quotes About Mortality

No one could make a fool of himself in dying, regardless of his delusions; life was the stage for fools, and no one earned mockery by going to his grave.

Instead, he functioned well on four or five hours, with an occasional six. Sleep was rest to him, yes, but it also felt like a taste of death, waking to discover that, for hours, the world had gone on just fine without him, as one day it would go on forever.

Everyone living here will be dead soon. Everyone within a radius of miles. Miles and miles.

She stiffened her resolve with a line of Eliot's verse: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.

not one to dwell on loss, because to dwell on it was to disrespect the gift of life and risk becoming obsessed with the fact that all the losses throughout the years eventually lead to the loss of life itself.

T. S. Eliot: LIFE YOU MAY EVADE, BUT DEATH YOU SHALL NOT.

They seemed to have thought of everything, but they were human, and therefore they had definitely not thought of everything.

gliomatosis cerebri. It originates in the connective cells of the brain and infiltrates quickly, deeply into surrounding tissue.

We all arrive in this world with a ticket out of it, but somehow, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, we remain convinced that those we care about will be with us for a long ride.

It is human nature to know we die and still to disbelieve it; otherwise, we might not carry on.

In one of his psychology classes, he'd been taught that, as a person lay dying

There's nowhere on Earth where people haven't died in sorry ways.

ASPIRE TO INSPIRE BEFORE YOU EXPIRE. —MRS. MIRACLE

What does it mean, all these tiny actions, these hidden secrets, these fragile humans with their hardships and friendships and fuckships that survive the slog-sprint through time? Don't you all realize? We all end up dust.

Nobody really owns anything. We give back our bodies at the end of our lives. We own our thoughts, but everything else is just borrowed. We use it for a while, then pass it on. Everything. We borrow the sun that shines on us today from the people on the other side of the world while they borrow the moon from us. Then we give it back. We can't keep the sun, no matter how afraid we are of the dark.

Nobody really owns anything. We give back our bodies at the end of our lives.We own our thoughts, but everything else is borrowed. Everything.

To rot under marble or to rot under earth is still to rot.

This life is but the childhood of our immortality.

It's plain to you that at the time I write this, I'm not dead. But maybe by the time you read it.

His elbows cracked loudly when he straightened his arms, and something hitched and snapped in his right shoulder when he moved it the wrong way; a general stiffness of his frame worked itself out by halves through most mornings, and he labored like an engine through the afternoons, but he was well past thirty-five years, closer now to forty, and he really wasn't much good in the woods anymore.

If he died now, Grainier probably wouldn't know it until they came into the light of the gas lamps either side of the doctor's house. After they'd moved along for nearly an hour without conversation, listening only to the creaking wagon and the sound of the nearby river and the clop of the mares, it grew dark.

We stared at him and felt like old maids. He, on the other hand, was the bride of Death.

We are not special. We are lit from within by a single candle flame and when that flame is blown out and all light leaves our eyes it is the same as if we never existed at all. We don't own our life. We rent it.

You do not want to be a noble person? She held her thumb and index finger close together. A little bit? He shook his head. I've gt nothing against noble people, I've just noticed they rarely live past forty. Neither do gangsters. True, he said, but we eat in better restaurants. (Live By Night - Dennis Lehane)