Quotes About Mortality

Everything is humorous, said Shorty, except your own death. But other people will laugh.

Those with the highest alpha-carotene had a 39 percent decrease in risk of death compared to those with the lowest alpha-carotene.

Low blood pressure, on the other hand, is: blood pressure values below 140/70 are associated with excess mortality in the elderly, and this is especially noticeable when drugs push down the diastolic blood pressure too low.14 Systolic pressure is the first, higher number; it represents the force of the heart pumping against the resistance offered by the blood vessel walls.

The best and largest cohort studies in nutritional epidemiology, such as the Adventist Health Study, the Iowa Women's Health Study, the Nurses' Health Study, the Physicians' Health Study, and the CARE Study all confirm that eating nuts and seeds is associated with a 30–50 percent decreased risk of CAD death, primarily sudden cardiac death, and dramatic decreases in all-cause mortality.

Researchers looking for answers to these questions studied women with cancer and found that saturated fat in the diet promoted a more rapid spread of the cancer.61 Other researchers found similar results. For a woman who already has cancer, her risk of dying increased 40 percent for every 1,000 grams of fat consumed monthly.62 Studies also indicate that high fruit and vegetable intake improved survival, and fat on the body increases the risk of a premature death.

We observed a direct relationship between body weight and mortality. By that I mean that the thinnest fifth of men experienced the lowest mortality, and mortality increased progressively with heavier and heavier weight.

One looks at death, always moves toward it, but until the last denies its existence.

As he lay expiring in the agony of death, the standers-by could hear him say softly 'I have seen the glories of the world.

The secret of survival is a defective imagination. The inability of mortals to imagine things as they truly are is what allows them to live, since one momentary, unresisted glimpse of the world's totality of suffering would annihilate them on the spot, like a whiff of the most lethal sewer gas.

Fictional characters are made of words, not flesh; they do not have free will, they do not exercise volition. They are easily born, and as easily killed off.

These things that were between us, these and a myriad others, a myriad myriad, these remain of her, but what will become of them when I am gone, I who am their repository and sole preserver?

I too could go, oh, yes, at a moment's notice I could go and be as though I had not been, except that the long habit of living indisposeth me for dying

This is the mortal world. It is a world where nothing is lost, where all is accounted for while yet the mystery of things is preserved; a world where they may live, however briefly, however tenuously, in the failing evening of the self, solitary and at the same time together somehow here in this place, dying as they may be and yet fixed forever in a luminous, unending instant.

Yes, tings endure while the living lapse

Sleep is uncanny, I have always found it so, a nightly dress-rehearsal for being dead.

Perhaps all of life is no more than a long preparation for the leaving of it. For

Yes, things endure, while the living lapse.

We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in turn drop, and so on into the unimaginable generations.

Thus in the minds of the many does the one ramify and disperse. It does not last, it cannot, it is not immortality. We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in their turn drop, and so on into the unimaginable generations.

Having poured my drink, I may not live to taste it, or that it may pass a live man's tongue to burn a dead man's belly; that having slumbered, I may never wake, or having waked, may never living sleep. Having heard tick, will I hear tock? Having served, will I volley? Having sugared will I cream? Having eithered, will I or? Itching, will I scratch? Hemming, will I haw?

Thus it is I accept without much grumble their failings and my own: the abuse of my enemies, the lapses of my friends; the growing pains in both my legs, my goatly seizures, my errors of fact and judgement, my failures of resolve–all these and more, the ineluctable shortcomings of mortal studenthood.

That is our 'pointed task. Love & die.

The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who's there?

Take stock, citizen bacillus, Now that there are so many billions of you, Bleeding through your opened veins, Into your bathtub, or into the Pacific Of that by which they may remember you.