Quotes About Mortality

Alas, for him who is gone and hath done no good work! The trumpet of march has sounded, and his load was not bound on.

When you start with wussie mortals, you get wussie demons. Sure, they steal souls and rend flesh occasionally, but they choke up in a pinch.

One thing I learned in this world? Things don't last. People say they do. They don't. Your friends, they die. The wars go on and on and on, then they end. People say they will love each other for the rest of their lives, and they don't.

I heard that Harry Nilsson had died. The secret to being a successful hellraiser, it seemed, was to stop raising hell before hell razed you.

The world is a sea in which we all must surely drown.

The highway's closed at a certain point. You have a certain amount of miles that you can make. It's a recognition of mortality.

she had insisted on keeping the doors and windows shut, as if a sealed chamber could prevent death from entering, or life from leaving her.

I like life. I would not want to live forever, but for a little while, life is fine.

Losing faith in your own singularity is the start of wisdom, I suppose also the first announcement of death.

Youth believes itself immortal. There is a cure for such an attitude, but unfortunately it is a cure from which one never recovers.

Thus it has always been: Only in death do worthless people have worth.

Once again I felt light-headed, but this time it wasn't from the scent of lilacs; it was from the scent of my own death.

No human has ever died.

Some things are sharper than they have been for years." "That's good. That means death is approaching.

Or on the whim of a deity. As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods.

Maybe it's wrong when we remember breakthroughs to our own being as something that occurs in discrete, extraordinary moments. Maybe falling in love, the piercing knowledge that we ourselves will someday die, and the love of snow are in reality not some sudden events; maybe they were always present. Maybe they never completely vanish, either.

If you consider all the unpleasantness you encounter while you're alive, it seems improbable that it would all come to an end simply because you're dead.

To the earth shall you return.

It was nearly winter. I had just seen a friend die, and was again beginning to take pleasure in my own existence. This friend, who thought of himself as the "first man to experience pain", had nevertheless tried up to the last moment to wish death away. I was thankful for all things and decreed: Enjoy yourself, take advantage of your days of good health.

I'm told women scream when they give birth because of the intense pain. And I think about how easily life can just slide away, like thawing ice. And how it's only the living that scream.

Yeah, some days you die.

He's getting old. I don't count the years. I don't multiply by seven. They bred dogs for everything else, even diving for fish, why didn't they breed them to live longer, to live as long as a man?

Life and death lived inside each other. That's what occured to me. Death was inside all of us, waiting for warmer nights, a compromised system, a beetle, as in the now dying black timber on the mountains.

They bred dogs for everything else, even diving for fish, why didn't they breed them to live longer, to live as long as a man?