You haven’t lost anything when you know were it is. Death can hide but not divide.
The minute we stop learning, we begin death, the process of dying. We learn from each other with every action we perform. We are teaching goodness or evil every time we step out of the house and into the street.
The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch, which hurts and is desired.
One must keep working continuously; otherwise, one thinks of death.
Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity. They seem more afraid of life than death.
A filmmaker doesn’t have to suffer to show suffering. You just have to understand it. You don’t have to die to shoot a death scene.
Sin brought death, and death will disappear with the disappearance of sin.
Bankruptcy is about financial death and financial rebirth. Bankruptcy is the great American story rewritten. We’re a nation of debtors.
Death not merely ends life, it also bestows upon it a silent completeness, snatched from the hazardous flux to which all things human are subject.
No one can outrun death. It will catch up to all of us eventually.
The disembodied spirit is immortal; there is nothing of it that can grow old or die. But the embodied spirit sees death on the horizon as soon as its day dawns.
You only live twice. Once when you are born and once when you look death in the face.
Pain is the mind. It’s the thoughts of the mind. Then I get rid of the thoughts, and I get in my witness, which is down in my spiritual heart. The witness that witnesses being. Then those particular thoughts that are painful – love them. I love them to death!
Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings.
When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace, and death a duty.
I would rather die in freedom on my way back home than starve to death here.
Death is not natural for a state as it is for a human being, for whom death is not only necessary, but frequently even desirable.
Privacy was in sufficient danger before TV appeared, and TV has given it its death blow.
And now, once again, I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper. I have an affection for it, for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words, which found no true echo in my heart.
If we have been pleased with life, we should not be displeased with death, since it comes from the hand of the same master.
You look up at drama, down at comedy. A singer, looking up is okay. A comic, it’s death.
The enemy fought with savage fury, and met death with all its horrors, without shrinking or complaining: not one asked to be spared, but fought as long as they could stand or sit.
The symbolic language of the crucifixion is the death of the old paradigm; resurrection is a leap into a whole new way of thinking.
We are not our own. We do not belong to ourselves. But we have been purchased with a dear price. We have cost an immense sum, even the sufferings and death of the Son of God.
Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all.
In nature, there is less death and destruction than death and transmutation.
I thank God that I can say on my death bed that I am a virtuous woman.
Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.
Violence in the voice is often only the death rattle of reason in the throat.
If you have only one passion in life – football – and you pursue it to the exclusion of everything else, it becomes very dangerous. When you stop doing this activity it is as though you are dying. The death of that activity is a death in itself.
In almost every interview someone asks what does HIM stand for. I can’t even remember our latest lie about that. When Hanson was hot, we said it means Hanson Is Murder. The name doesn’t have a particular history. His Infernal Majesty was a totally different band. I think HIM derives from some death metal joke.
I hate to say this, but I’ll repeat it: After death, all we know that you do is stink.
When death comes it is never our tenderness that we repent from, but our severity.
Pergamon, a prosperous city in western Anatolia, was fabled to have been founded by Hercules’ son. Like many Hellenistic cities populated by Greeks who intermarried with indigenous people, Pergamon after Alexander the Great’s death (323 B.C.) had evolved a hybrid of democracy and Persian-influenced monarchy.
Death can come at any time to anyone. Everybody is equal before death.
Being an old maid is like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle.
The body dies, but the spirit that transcends it cannot be touched by death.
The ‘kingdom of Heaven’ is a condition of the heart – not something that comes ‘upon the earth’ or ‘after death.’
I simply can’t build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death… I think… peace and tranquillity will return again.
I’m a huge animal lover – I love animals to death. I’ve got tortoises and three dogs, and I’ve had a million animals in the past. I just think that we should do all we can to take care of them.
We cry coming into the world, as everyone around us laughs with joy. And we laugh with joy leaving this world, when everyone around us cries.
Fireheart dashed to the warrior’s side. Cloudtail was standing stiff-legged, every hair in his pelt on end as if he were facing an enemy. His eyes were fixed on the limp heap of tabby fur huddled at his paws.Why, Fireheart? Cloudtail wailed. Why her?Fireheart knew, but rage and grief made it hard to speak. Because Tigerstar wants the pack to get a taste of cat blood, he rasped. The dead cat lying in front of them was Brindleface.
When Shi Mei died, Mo Weiyu disappeared from the world.And when Chu Wanning died……?Mo Ran didn’t know. All he knew was the feeling of the person in his arms slowly growing colder and colder on that day. He didn’t cry, nor did he laugh; joy and sorrow both grew out of reach.When Chu Wanning died, Mo Weiyu no longer knew what the world even was anymore.
The real power in America is held by a fast-emerging new Oligarchy of pimps and preachers who see no need for Democracy or fairness or even trees, except maybe the ones in their own yards, and they don’t mind admitting it. They worship money and power and death. Their ideal solution to all the nation’s problems would be another 100 Year War.
You need to be greedy or ignorant to truly want to live forever.
I have every reason to be sad, but I don’t have any reason to mourn. People grieve when things end. Nothing has ended tonight. One of us has simply gone ahead as we always knew it would have to be.
Maybe you should say goodbye, Cal.”No.”It might be important.”It might make her die.
They say that war is death’s best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: ‘Get it done, get it done.’ So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more.
It doesn’t matter how much his mother loves him; love is not enough to keep any of us alive.
But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long-preserved virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust; The grave’s a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective.
But there is nothing in biology yet found that indicates the inevitability of death.
Every blade in the field – Every leaf in the forest – lays down its life in its season as beautifully as it was taken up.
A complete life may be one ending in so full identification with the non-self that there is no self to die.
I didn’t want any flowers, I only wantedTo lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.How free it is, you have no idea how free——The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.–from Tulips, written 18 March 1961
[…] But then,What is not vain, by God, in lives of men?All is in vain! We play at blind man’s buffUntil hard edges break into out path.Man life’s is error. Where, then, is relief?In shedding tears or wrestling down my grief?