She was lost now, she’d been silenced- another dead branch on Cordova’s warped tree.
Think of the glory. Think of your reputation. Think how great it’ll look on your next resume.On my cenotaph, you mean. Nobody will be able to collect enough of my scattered atoms to bury. You going to cover my funeral expenses, son?Splendidly. Banners, dancing girls, and enough beer to float your coffin to Valhalla.- Miles coaxing Ky Tung to agree to an almost suicidal mission
If anyone stops us, as long as we mumble something pretentious about the glory of death, we should be fine.
I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories. A war story is a black space. On the one side is before and on the other side is after, and what is inside belongs only to the dead.
The world was becoming a very puzzling place for me. I didn’t understand why bad people were allowed to tell good people what to do. What kind of world would allow that to happen?
I basked in you;I loved you, helplessly, with a boundless tongue-tied love.And death doesn’t prevent me from loving you.Besides, in my opinion you aren’t dead.(I know dead people, and you are not dead.)
This is what you remember of the people you love when they’re gone—the ways they knew you that no one else did—even you. In that way, their passing is a death of a piece of yourself.
I always knew, on some level, that I wouldn’t live long. It’s simply not written in my stars.
I’ve got death inside me. It’s just a question of whether or not I can outlive it.
It’s a profound privilege to die from stress related diseases. It is the elimination of other causes of death such as infectious disease which is responsible for bringing lifestyle diseases to the fore – and these are exquisitely sensitive to stress.
A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child’s kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us. We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find…… a perfect paper airplane.
Fear seems to have many causes. Fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of being hurt, and so on, but ultimately all fear is the ego’s fear of death, of annihilation. To the ego, death is always just around the corner. In this mind-identified state, fear of death affects every aspect of your life.
Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black. She has a knife, knife, knife, stuck in her back, back, back. She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe. She cannot cry, cry, cry. Thats why she begs, begs, begs. She begs to die, die ,die..
While death and darkness girdle meI grope for immortality.
Tonight I saw myself in the dark window asthe image of my father, whose lifewas spent like this,thinking of death, to the exclusionof other sensual matters,so in the end that lifewas easy to give up, sinceit contained nothing: evenmy mother’s voice couldn’t make himchange or turn backas he believedthat once you can’t love another human beingyou have no place in the world.
I told him I believed in hell, and that certain people, like me, had to live in hell before they died, to make up for missing out on it after death, since they didn’t believe in life after death, and what each person believed happened to him when he died.
Each day death corrodes what we call living, and life ceaselessly swallows our desire for the void.
—I speak as one who plumbs Life’s dim profound, One who at length can sound Clear views and certain. But—after love what comes? A scene that lours, A few sad vacant hours, And then, the Curtain.
As Luke knelt down beside his corpse, Clary couldn’t help but remember what he had said about having loved Valentine once, about having been his closest friend. Luke, she thought with a pang. Surely he couldn’t be sad — or even grieved?But then again, perhaps everyone should have someone to grieve for them, and there was no one else to grieve for Valentine.
The universal pervasion of ugliness, hideous landscapes, vile noises, foul language…everything. Unnatural, broken, blasted; the distortion of the dead, whose unburiable bodies sit outside the dug outs all day, all night, the most execrable sights on earth. In poetry we call them the most glorious.
We hear tears loudly on this side of Heaven. What we don’t take time to contemplate are the even louder cheers on the other side of death’s valley.
Everyone knows that part of the spirit descends to the afterworld, while part of it remains with the family, but we have a special belief about the spirit of a young woman who has died before her marriage that goes contrary to this. She comes back to prey upon other unmarried girls–not to scare them but to take them to the afterworld with her so she might have company.
Not that there’s anything wrong with just lying around on your back. In it’s way, rotting is interesting too, as we will see. It’s just that there are other ways to spend your time as a cadaver.
I have triumphed over both life and death because I no longer desire to live, nor do I any longer fear to die.
I love you Anna Covey,’ he said, his voice barely audible. And slowly, clumsily, he leant forward, and his lips found hers, and Anna felt him kiss her awkwardly, she knew that she wasn’t a Surplus any more. And nor was Peter.
Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.
Time takes the ugliness and horror out of death and turns it into beauty.
One to be a murderer, the other to be martyred, One to be a monarch, the other to go mad.
We may not get to choose how we die, but we can choose how we live. The universe may forget us, but it doesn’t matter. Because we are the ants, and we’ll keep marching on.
One could argue that it’s romantic to die for love. Of course, then you’re dead and unable to take that honeymoon trip to the Alps with all the other fashionable young couples, which is a shame.
Aaron anticipated the application of some kind of healing balm, but to his surprise the healer started singing a soft melodic tune. The breath from the notes fell on Aaron’s injured arm and he felt the hairs on his forearm react to the soft breath. It was only moments before the song drifted away on the wind and Wonataban’s instruction followed the last note: “Open your eyes.
This is what youth must figure out:Girls, love, and living.The having, the not having,The spending and giving,And the meloncholy time of not knowing.This is what age must learn about:The ABC of dying.The going, yet not going,The loving and leaving,And the unbearable knowing and knowing
All names disappear. Children should be taught that in elementary school. But we’re afraid to teach them.
You tell yourself it would be best for her to die. You tell yourself that if now, at this hour of the night, she died, it would be easier. For you, you probably mean, but you don’t finish the sentence.
Death has his favorites, like anyone. Those who are beloved of Death will not die.
What a waste.. All those people saying all those wonderful things, and Irv never got to hear any of it.
Yet he refused to be depressed. Instead, Morrie had become a lightning rod of ideas.
Life isn’t fair. A fair’s a place where you eat corn dogs and ride the ferris wheel.
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,If I am dead, as dead I well may be,You’ll come and find the place where I am lying,And kneel and say Ave there for me,And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,For you will bend and tell me that you love me,And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me
Mithorden said it well, she said finally. It’s worshipping death. They say they follow light. But, in the end, they’re really following desolation, division, the end of things. You should hear their prophecies — war, destruction, only special chosen people are spared. She felt sad and angry. Worse, she wondered to what ends people who believed these things would go to assert their views.
Song after Battle:As the young men went by I was looking for him. It surprises me anew That he has gone. It is something To which I cannot be reconciled.Owls hoot at me. Owls hoot at me. That is what I hear In my life. Wolves howl at me. Wolves howl at me. That is what I hear In my life. -American Indian Songs
Death is another bar which lies several steps below the normal world. I’m at its threshold, but not yet in it. Its doorway is doorless.
I wonder if it hurts to live,And if they have to try,And whether, could they choose between,They would not rather die.
Grandfather : Death is nothing to be afraid of.Renee : It’s not death I’m afraid of.Grandfather: What is it, then?Renee : LIFE
Death is fugitive; even when you’re watching for it, the actual instant somehow slips between your fingers. You don’t get that sudden drop of the head you see in movies. Instead you simply sit there, waiting for something to happen, and all at once you realize you’ve missed it.
The area I grew up in is a beautiful sight in an ugly picture. At 13, you’re 18. At 18, you’re 25, and the reason being is that the streets raise you. You have to grow up really fast. The decisions you make could be one of life or death. There’s a lot of stress.
Will having a newborn distract from the time we have together? she asked. Don’t you think saying goodbye to your child will make your death more painful?Wouldn’t it be great if it did? I said. Lucy and I both felt that life wasn’t about avoiding suffering.
The death of Abdel Nasser on September 28, 1970, was an irreversible setback for Egypt.
There are two kinds of people in this world, son. Those who save lives, and those who take lives.And what of those who protect and defend? Those who save lives by taking lives?That’s like trying to stop a storm by blowing harder. Ridiculous. You can’t protect by killing.
For a word to be spoken, there must be silence. Before, and after.
A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTHI do not carry a sickle or scythe.I only wear a hooded black robe when it’s cold.And I don’t have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I’ll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.
Death is a part of Life, they are dancing together the dance of infinity in front of the gates of Time. We can live our dreams as we are dreaming our future. Time is the Endless Consciousness
He was becoming unstuck, he was sure of that – his bones were no longer wrapped in flesh but in clouds of dust, in hummingbirds, dragonflies, and luminous moths – but so perfect was his equilibrium that he felt no fear. He was vast, he was many, he was dynamic, he was eternal.
Searching for our kindred dead isn’t just a hobby. It is a fundamental responsibility for all members of the Church. We believe that life continues after death and that all will be resurrected.
This is the secret that none dares tell who fights for a cause. Dying, we are all alike.
He knew that his father had finally run hard enough and long enough to wear down the frontiers between the worlds, he had run clear out of his skin and into the arms of his wife, to whom he had proved, once and for all, the superiority of his love. Some migrants are happy to depart.
The sorrow we feel when we lose a loved one is the price we pay to have had them in our lives.
I waited for dawn, but only because I had forgotten how hard mornings were. For a second I’d be normal. Then came the dim awareness of something off, out of place. Then the truth came crashing down and that was it for the rest of the day. Sunlight was reproof. Shouldn’t I feel better than I had in the dead of night.
But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills,And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me,And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’dTo dwell in presence of immortal youth,Immortal age beside immortal youth,And all I was, in ashes. – Tithonus
She was still clutching the book. She was holding desperately on to the words who had saved her life.