All Quotes By Tag: Death

“Whilst the wolflets bayed, A grave was made, And then with the strokes of a silver spade, It was filled to make a mound. And for two cold days and three long nights, The father tended that holy plot; And stayed by where his wife was laid, In the grave within the ground.”

“The only cure for a real hangover is death.”

“I’ll fall.”You wont fall.”I’ll fall. I’ll fall and I’ll die.’As I said it, I could see it happening. The foot stepping on air, pulling the rest of my body with it, tree limbs breaking as I plummeted down. ‘No,’ he said, his voice assured, ‘You’d never do that to me.”

“I say the same thing about the death of James Wait. “Oh, well — he wasn’t going to write the Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony anyway.”

“And will ‘a not come again? And will ‘a not come again? No, no, he is dead, Go to thy death bed: He will never come again.”

“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.”

“To enter into the realm of contemplation, one must in a certain sense die: but this death is in fact the entrance into a higher life. It is a death for the sake of life, which leaves behind all that we can know or treasure as life, as thought, as experience as joy, as being. [Every form of intuition and experience] die to be born again on a higher level of life.”

“We’re organisms; we’re conceived, we’re born, we live, we die, and we decay. But as we decay we feed the world of the living: plants and bugs and bacteria.”

“That can happen when people die, the argument with them drops away and people so flawed while they were drawing breath that at times they were all but unbearable now assert themselves in the most appealing way, and what was least to your liking the day before yesterday becomes in the limousine behind the hearse a cause not only for sympathetic amusement but for admiration”

“The moon had risen behind him, the color of a shark’s underbelly. It lit the ruined walls, and the skin of his arms and hands, with its sickly light, making him long for a mirror in which to study his face. Surely he’d be able to see the bones beneath the meat; the skull gleaming the way his teeth gleamed when he smiled. After all, wasn’t that what a smile said? Hello, world, this is the way I’ll look when the wet parts are rotted.”

“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.”

“Literature is the ditch I’m going to die in. It’s still the thing I care most about.”

“Life is just one long day separated into sections by sleep. Life never stops happening until you are dead. So whatever happens-love, grief, hate, shame- never disappears. It just gets easier to live with. It just scabs over, waiting for something else significant to happen.”

“Gone, but only until we get there”

“We are born and then we die. And in between lies only this strange darkness that we can’t break.”