Love is not love that wounded bleeds And bleeding sullies slow. Come death within my hands and I Unto my love will go.
To my mind the defining characteristic of our era is spin, everything tailored to vanishing point by market research, brands and bands manufactured to precise specifications; we are so used to things transmuting into whatever we would like them to be that it comes as a profound outrage to encounter death, stubbornly unspinnable, only and immutably itself.
You fear them because you fear death, and rightly: for death is terrible and must be feared,’ the mage said…’And life is also a terrible thing,’ Ged said, ‘and must be feared and praised.
He gave her a bright fake smile; so much of life was a putting off of unhappiness for another time. Nothing was ever lost by delay. He had a dim idea that perhaps if one delayed long enough, things were taken out of one’s hands altogether by death.
For the first time in my life I tasted death, and death tasted bitter, for death is birth, is fear and dread of some terrible renewal.
Death is impatient and thoughtless. It barges into your room when you are right in the middle of something, and it doesn’t bother to wipe its boots.
No matter how much he talked, she never answered him, but he knew she was still there. He knew it was like the soldiers he had read about. They would have an arm or a leg blown off, and for days, even weeks after it happened, they could still feel the arm itching, the leg itching, the mother calling.
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.Mercutio: No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but ’tis enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
Birth is painful and delightful. Death is painful and delightful. Everything that ends is also the beginning of something else. Pain is not a punishment; pleasure is not a reward.
Good Madonna, why mournest thou?Good Fool, for my brother’s death.I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.I know his soul is in heaven, Fool. The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul being in heaven.
Working with the dying is like being a midwife for this great rite of passage of death. Just as a midwife helps a being take their first breath, you help a being take their last breath.
I still loved Granny. It flowed out of my chest. With Granny gone, where would my love go?
He wanted to bury her in Velaris. Somewhere full of light and warmth, full of kind people. Far away from these mountains.
It’s a consoling notion that death is a very tiny hole, and you need to make yourself very small to get through it. One obviously needs to lighten off, and a rucksack full of bricks or a mantelpiece full of trophies will certainly have to be abandoned – the sooner the better, I say.
You don’t know what cold is until you’ve experienced the cold you feel when the blood is draining out of your body.
I must admit that if there was ever going to be a woman to take my mind and heart off of Annette, it would have been Aideen.
I find by my calculations, which are according to revealed inspiration, that the sword of death is now approaching us, in the shape of pestilence, war more horrible than has been known in three lifetimes, and famine.
… just because [butterflies’] lives were short didn’t mean they were tragic… See, they have a beautiful life.
No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.
We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love
If any foreign minister begins to defend to the death a ‘peace conference’, you can be sure his government has already placed its orders for new battleships and airplanes.
Then, as his planet killed him, it occurred to Kynes that his father and all the other scientists were wrong, that the most persistent principles of the universe were accident and error.
[Children] just cannot be sad too long, it is not in them, as children mourn in little bits here and there like patchwork in their lives.
Being unable to cure death, wretchedness and ignorance, men have decided, in order to be happy, not to think about such things.
There is some delight in ale and wineAnd some in girls with ankles fineBut my delight, yes always mineIs to dance with Jak O’ the ShadowsWe will toss the dice however they fallAnd snuggle the girls be they short or tallThen follow Lord Mat whenever he callsTo dance with Jak O’ the Shadows.
The heaviness of loss in her heart hadn’t eased, but there was room there for humour, too.
Mad Eye’ Moody on the Avada Kedavra curse: Not nice, he said calmly. Not pleasant. And there’s no counter curse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.
End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.
Maybe they did what they had to do to live, and tried to get a little love and have a little fun before the darkness took them.
What mancan you show me who places any value on his time, who reckons the worth of each day, who understands that he isdying daily? For we are mistaken when we look forward to death; the major portion of death has already passed,Whatever years be behind us are in death’s hands.
They were people whose lives were slow, who did not see themselves growing old, or falling sick, or dying, but who disappeared little by little in their own time, turning into memories, mists from other days, until they were absorbed into oblivion.
They say that just before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes, but that’s not how it happened for me.
I’d heard that if you saw a Reaper, you saw what you expected to see, what you thought the agents of Death would look like. Personally, I wanted to see little, fuzzy pink bunnies, but apparently my subconscious visualized tall, scary, and skeletal. My subconscious and I needed to have a long talk.
Aren’t you afraid of dying?Not really. I’ve watched lots of good-for-nothing, worthless people die, and if people like that can do it, then I should be able to handle it.
I am afraid of reduction. After a lifetime’s independence- yes, selfish independence- I am terrified of being reduced to childhood once more, to helplessness, to seas of confusion from which the cruel lucid intervals poke up like rock shoals. I don’t want to sit in my chair and be fed, much less do I want to be handed over to medical professionals.
And so I have to live. Because we live for more than just ourselves, Most of the time we live for others, keep putting one foot before the other, left and right, left and right, so that walking becomes a habit, just like breathing. Ina n out, left and right.
Death is a state of mind—many people on Earth spend their entire lives dead.
When you’re dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.
There were heavy beams – planks of sun – falling randomly, wonderfully, onto the road. Clouds arched their backs to lok behind as they started again to move on. ‘It’s such a beautiful day,’ he said, and his voice was in many pieces. A great day to die. A great day to die, like this.
I’d rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you.
Don’t interfere! The Doctor silenced her angrily. I cannot will my own destruction.
Die, die we all pass away, But don’t wear a frown coz it’s really okay,And you might try to hide, And you might try to pray,But we all end up remains of the day.
Just for a while: Death’s opening chat-up line in His great seduction, before he drugged you with soporific comforts, distracted you with minor luxuries and ensnared you with long-term payment plans.Join the Rat Race just for a while.Concentrate on your career just for a while.Move in with your girlfriend just for a while.Find a bigger place, out in the burbs just for a while.Lie down in that wooden box just for a while.
You’re Hell’s Angels, then? What chapter are you from?”REVELATIONS. CHAPTER SIX.
How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike.
Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life.
I don’t eat friggin’ lobster or anything like that. Because they’re alive when you kill it.
Lebih banyak orang menghadapi kematian di atas tempat tidur daripada orang yang mati di atas pesawat. Tetapi kenapa lebih banyak orang yang takut mati ketika menaiki pesawat daripada orang yang takut menaiki tempat tidur.More people can see the face of death while their sleep in their own bed rather than people who can see the face of death while their flying in the plane. But why more people scare to take a plane than people who take a bed.
It’s okay if you want to go. Everyone wants you to stay. I want you to stay more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But that’s what I want and I could see why it might not be what you want. So I just wanted to tell you that I understand if you go. It’s okay if you have to leave us. It’s okay if you want to stop fighting.
I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should.
How heavy a body that has been traversed by death is, life is light, there’s no need to let anyone make it heavy for us
Does anyone else day dream about what it would be like if specific age groups just dropped dead all across the world?
What I wanted to express very clearly and intensely was that the reason these people had to invent or imagine heroes and gods is pure fear. Fear of life and fear of death.
The family exists for many reasons, but its most basic function may be to draw together after a member dies.
There really is only one ending to any story. Human life ends in death. Until then, it keeps going and gets complicated and there’s loss. Everything involves loss; every relationship ends in one way or another.
How could a person have and do all these stupid things–clip coupons and double lock the front door–and then one day just cease to exist?
She Dwelt Among the Untrodden WaysShe dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove,A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love:A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye!—Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be;But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!