All Quotes By Tag: Death-and-dying

“A man dies, girl, he isn’t any more, least not down here. Respect and all that crap doesn’t deserve the dead; it just makes the living feel better. The dead one, maybe he is somewhere else– maybe all he needs to be somewhere else is to believe he will be somewhere else. I won’t deny a man his belief, and I don’t know any more’n you about souls and all that stuff. But I know this: Speaking good or bad about something that isn’t anymore is a bloody waste of time. I can’t feature Saint Peter sitting up there saying: ‘Hey, Adam, there’s folks bad-mouthing you down there. What’d you do to merit that?”

“You dont die just once, Because you are a human being with emotions you die many times in your lifetime before you actually die. Most of the times you alone mourn on those little deaths.”

“Memories are of the ethereal, and not the material world, that is how I know I am forever.”

“Dying is like the ocean, sometimes the tide comes in gently with soft, delicate waves quietly working in the background. Other days, the waves violently crash into explosions, demanding to be noticed but regardless of how it chooses to do its job, the tide will always come in.”

“Instead, I opened my eyes to find the thing in front of my face, wafting dead horse breath across my chin and up my nose, its mouth like a gaping maw; its eyes, two giant wormholes, twisting and bending with some apparitional substance that could have been space and time if I’d known anything about physics.”

“Death’s life should have listened to the moonly whispers of breathing in the coldest nights”

“This is how most stories end in the hospital. Not with crash carts and sirens and electric shocks to the chest, but with an empty room, a crisp white bed, silence.”

“L’absence d’envie de vivre, hélas, ne suffit pas pour avoir envie de mourir.”

“Dying is a universe of its own. ”

“I wonder if my first breath was as soul-stirring to my mother as her last breath was to me”

“Death is a bored clerk, with too many orders to fill. There is no reckoning. No profound moment. It creeps up on us from behind, and snatches us away while we shit.”

“Pain, unless it is physical, was sold to you (by your culture).”

“We are all dying one by one. We all smell of mortality, and we can’t wash it off.”

“What is it that dies? A log of wood dies to become a few planks. The planks die to become a chair. The chair dies to become a piece of firewood, and the firewood dies to become ash. You give different names to the different shapes the wood takes, but the basic substance is there always. If we could always remember this, we would never worry about the loss of anything. We never lose anything; we never gain anything. By such discrimination we put an end to unhappiness. (118-119)”

“I am not ready to die,But I am learning to trust deathAs I have trusted life.I am movingToward a new freedom”