Quotes About Tragedy

You never know what's hit you. A gunshot is the perfect way. (When asked how he would choose to die)

The wagoner's eyes were wide open. The shock of what had just happened was frozen on his face. His own dagger was buried deep in his chest. 'He fell on his knife. He's dead.' the steward said. He looked up at the Ranger, but saw neither quilt nor regret in his dark eyes. 'What a shame,' said Will Treaty. Then, gathering his cloak around him, he turned and strode from the tent.

Die familie heeft weinig geluk met gooiende vrouwen,' stelde Gilan droog vast. Lydia keek hem niet-begrijpend aan. 'Tja, Cassandra schakelde zijn broer met haar slinger uit, en nou heb jij hem met een pijl doorboord.

And then the world turned red, then black. And there was nothing any more.

'Tis Pity She's a Whore.

The human race is unimportant. It is the self that must not be betrayed." "I suppose one could say that Hitler didn't betray his self." "You are right. He did not. But millions of Germans did betray their selves. That was the tragedy. Not that one man had the courage to be evil. But that millions had not the courage to be good.

destroyed above 12,000,000 of souls upon the continent of America, in the space of forty years.

the biggest tragedy of life is the utter impossibility to change what you have done

lago to amuse the audience, especially since Othello (like Macbeth) has no sense of humour.

I told Augustus the broad outline of my miracle: diagnosed with Stage IV thyroid cancer when I was thirteen. (I didn't tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You're a woman. Now die.)

I found myself thinking about President William McKinley, the third American president to be assassinated. He lived for several days after he was shot, and towards the end, his wife started crying and screaming, "I want to go too! I want to go too!" And with his last measure of strength, McKinley turned to her and spoke his last words: "We are all going.

There is only one things in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.

She's the kind of person who either dies tragically at twenty-seven, like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, or else grows up to win, like, the first-ever Nobel Prize for Awesome.

The world is what it is, unjust and tragic and full of crying shames. Don't hate me for it.

This man knocked on the wrong door." A perfect silence, Hunt's heart swelling with respect. "This man died looking for his daughter.

in 2010, a University of Alabama scientist gunned down six of her colleagues. Here's what made Amy Bishop snap.

their faces were wholly burned, their eyesockets were hollow, the fluid from their melted eyes had run down their cheeks.

At exactly fifteen minutes past eight in the morning, on August 6, 1945, Japanese time . . . the moment when the atomic bomb flashed over Hiroshima . . . .

A YEAR after the bomb was dropped, Miss Sasaki was a cripple; Mrs. Nakamura was destitute; Father Kleinsorge was back in the hospital; Dr. Sasaki was not capable of the work he once could do; Dr. Fujii had lost the thirty-room hospital it took him many years to acquire, and had no prospects of rebuilding it; Mr. Tanimoto's church had been ruined and he no longer had his exceptional vitality. The lives of these six people, who were among the luckiest in Hiroshima, would never be the same.

A hundred thousand people were killed by the atomic bomb, and these six were among the survivors. They still wonder why they lived when so many others died. Each of them counts many small items of chance or volition a step taken in time, a decision to go indoors, catching one street-car instead of the next that spared him. And now each knows that in the act of survival he lived a dozen lives and saw more death than he ever thought he would see. At the time none of them knew anything.

Yes, people of Hiroshima died manly in the atomic bombing, believing that it was for Emperor's sake.

Under many houses, people screamed for help, but no one helped; in general, survivors that day assisted only their relatives or immediate neighbors, for they could not comprehend or tolerate a wider circle of misery.

In the context of stress, the great paradox of the modern age may be that there is not more hardship, just more news—and too much of it. The 24/7 streaming torrent of tragedy and demands flashing at us from an array of digital displays keeps the amygdala flying.

I won't patronize you by saying I know how you feel-every tragedy is different, and personal.