If you gave [Jerry] Falwell an enema he could be buried in a matchbox.
Love doesn’t always mean rings and veils and walks down the aisle.Sometimes love means broken windows and broken hearts,and not being able to fix either. And sometimes love means telling you, there’s no such thing as time in Heaven so don’t rush to meet me. Stay a while, and pick, girl, the roses.
The dying sun will glow on you without burning, as it has done today. The wind will be soft and mellow and your hilltop will tremble. As you reach the end of your dance you will look at the sun, for you will never see it again in waking or in dreaming, and then your death will point to the south. To the vastness.
During the last few years of her life Mrs. Willowes grew continually more skilled in evading responsibilities, and her death seemed but the final perfected expression of this skill. It was as if she had said, yawning a delicate cat’s yawn, “I think I will go to my grave now,” and had left the room.
Be sure that head and heart were laidIn wisdom down, content to die.Be sure he faced the Starless SkyUnduped, unmurmuring, unafraid.(“The Passing of Bierce”)
We walk into the rest of our lives together, not knowing it’ll end before it’s truly started.
All creation necessarily ends in this: Creators, powerless, fleeing from the things they have wrought.
Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.
I want away to the house of death, to my father under the low, clay roof.
The longer I lived, the longer it would be until I saw him alive again, until I could taste his new lips and run my fingers through his new hair. We could be young and beautiful again . . .
Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist.
Nothing remains forever, only thing that remain forever is romantically stupid word forever.
Heaven is a place where all the dogs you’ve ever loved come to greet you.
Death has this much to be said for it:You don’t have to get out of bed for it.Wherever you happen to beThey bring it to you—free.
Yes, they are carnal, both of them, love and death, and therein lies their terror and their great magic!
Usually the things that kill us are the things we do every single day.
Shapeshifting requires the ability to transcend your attachments, in particular your ego attachments to identity and who you are. If you can get over your attachment to labeling yourself and your cherishing of your identity, you can be virtually anybody. You can slip in and out of different shells, even different animal forms or deity forms.
Times are not good here. The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become a study for archaeologists…but it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio.
Let your heart shine even more than your face. The beautiful contents of your heart can never be forgotten, but your face will be a history.
Anyway, lots of warrior tribes think that when they die, they go to a heavenly land somewhere, said the toad. You know, where they can drink and fight and feast forever? So maybe this is theirs.But this is a real place!So? That’s what they believe. Besides, they’re only small. Maybe the universe is a bit crowded and they have to put heavens anywhere there’s room? I’m a toad, so you’ll appreciate that I’m having to guess a lot here.
And a soul would run by a living being, touch them softly on the shoulder or cheek, and continue on its way to heaven. The dead are never exactly seen by the living, but many people seem acutely aware of something changed around them. They speak of a chill in the air. The mates of the deceased wake from dreams and see a figure standing at the end of their bed, or in a doorway, or boarding, phantomlike, a city bus.
…this is our tragedy, she said in his words, our fictions are killing us, but if we didn’t have those fictions, maybe that would kill us too.
We do not know what love is. We know the symptoms of it, the pleasure, the pain, the fear, the anxiety and so on. We try to solve the symptoms, which becomes a wandering in darkness. We spend our days and nights in this, and it is soon over in death.
DON’T THINK OF IT AS DYING, said Death. JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.
I remembered back to leo’s burial and holding your hand. I was eleven and you were six, your hand soft and small in mine. As the vicar said ‘in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life’ you turned to me, ‘I don’t want sure and certain hope I want sure and certain Bee.
Death is not the endDeath can never be the end.Death is the road.Life is the traveller.The Soul is the Guide…Our mind thinks of death.Our heart thinks of lifeOur soul thinks of Immortality
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.
Everything begins and ends. Every day and night, every concerto, every relationship, every life. Everything ends eventually.
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
For a moment amongst the crowd, I saw you. I’ve since found out it’s common for people separated from someone they love to keep seeing that loved one amongst strangers; something to do with recognition units in our brain being too heated and too easily triggered. This cruel trick of the mind lasted only a few moments, but was long enough to feel with physical force how much I needed you.
Whatever distinguishes one lump of flesh from another when we’re alive, we’re all the same once we’re dead. Just used-up shells.
It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.
But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near
June is gone. For the first time, the enormity of that hits me. Every muscle aches, my heart most of all. I am throbbing with how much I miss her. It hurts worse than anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be expected to live day to day carrying this kind of pain. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go out there, spread her ashes, and let her go.I want to stop running away from everything.I want to find something to run toward.
Death walks faster than the wind and never returns what he has taken.
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;
Remembrance of things past is just for the rich. For the poor it only marks the faint traces on the path to death.
You were disrespectful to a god I follow,” Eufame said to Bonnyman. “I would protect him—” “With your life,” Bonnyman said before Eufame could continue. “Guess what, ghost, you are already dead.” “As are you, zombie” Eufame said.
I have always been afraid… Always been pretending to follow you closely, alwyas been pretending to sharpen my teeth, when the truth is, I am … scared to death just treading on your shadow.
I’ve never been in love. I will die without knowing what it feels like to need to see one person’s face when you go to sleep at night, to crave seeing it when you wake up. I wish I knew.
Don’t be afraid, Queen, the blood has long run down into the earth. And on the spot where it was spilled, grapevines are growing today.
And yet, said Poirot, suppose an accident-Ah, no, my friend-From your point of view it would be regrettable, I agree. But nevertheless let us just for one moment suppose it. Then, perhaps, all these here are linked together – by death.
No,” said the doctor. “It’s something I’ve never seen before. Something I don’t think anyone has seen before.”
That is what death is like. It doesn’t matter what uniforms the soldiers are wearing. It doesn’t matter how good the weapons are. I thought if everyone could see what I saw, we would never have war anymore.
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I’ll sell them for a dollarThey’re worth so much more after I’m a gonerAnd maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin
No society has been able to abolish human sadness, no political system can deliver us from the pain of living, from our fear of death, our thirst for the absolute. It is the human condition that directs the social condition, not vice versa.
To you, death does not simply end life. It steals away the sunsets you’ll never see, the children you’ll never hold, the wife you’ll never love. It’s frightening to almost lose your future, and it’s heartbreaking to witness death snuff out other people’s tomorrows.
I am always saddened by the death of a good person. It is from this sadness that a feeling of gratitude emerges. I feel honored to have known them and blessed that their passing serves as a reminder to me that my time on this beautiful earth is limited and that I should seize the opportunity I have to forgive, share, explore, and love. I can think of no greater way to honor the deceased than to live this way.
She is dead. Almost certainly dead. Nearly conclusively dead. She is, at the very least, not answering her telephone.
I am forever walking upon these shores,Betwixt the sand and the foam,The high tide will erase my foot prints,And the wind will blow away the foam,But the sea and the shore will remain forever.
Aurelia was just about to take a sip of a mimosa when Mother Guardian snatched the flute away and promptly downed the drink in one gulp. Burping unashamedly, she said, We can’t have the validity of the marriage contracts jeopardized because the bride got rat-assed on her wedding day.
You try spending six months sitting at somebody’s bedside, waiting for them to die and then tell me that the happy-ending love story isn’t one of God’s good gifts.
Beware:At war Or at peace,More people die Of unenlightened self-interestThan of any other disease.
They say that somewhere in Africa the elephants have a secret grave where they go to lie down, unburden their wrinkled gray bodies, and soar away, light spirits at the end.
Immortality like this is about as useful as sunscreen on a submarine.
Man has but three events in his life: to be born, to live, and to die. He is not conscious of his birth, he suffers at his death and he forgets to live.
And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
Someone dying asks if there is life after death. Yes, comes the answer, only not yours.