there’s only one thing we can depends on when we dying, it’s faith .

The erruption of feelings & emotions that follows a near-death exerience, or any event that causes us to stop & look deeply at the reality of our lives, is ripe with the potential for insight & clarity.

When death comes you do not stay for one minute in the place it has visited. Many things arrive after death-sadness, questions, and policemen- and none of these can be answered when your papers are not in order.

Oh how wrong we were to think immortality meant never dying

Many African societies divide humans into three categories: those still alive on the earth, the sasha, and the zamani. The recently departed whose time on earth overlapped with people still here are the sasha, the living-dead. They are not wholly dead, for they still live in the memories of the living, who can call them...

Fiction is an urgent business. It is the Dying Us telling stories to the Dying Us, trying to crack the nonsense in our heads open with a big hammer pronto, before Death arrives.

You’re are already slowly being murdered by life daily. Death is already happening so why fear it. Just wait for it. No need to be a murderer life is. Life goes on after we die, we’re the mortal beings.

Sometimes, the Lord just takes blessed people because they’ve filled their purpose early. Everyone plays their own song. They sing their story to the world and leave behind a melody of memories. Sometimes… their song is cut short and ends too early. But that doesn’t mean their music was any less sweet or that they...

We want all the benefits of the resurrection without acknowledging our dependence on God as mortal creatures.

Die in a good way, obviously.

Your father calls you to his court. You need not pack. You go garbed in glorious raiment. He waits eagerly by his palace doors to welcome you, and has prepared a place at the high table, by his side, in the company of the great-souled, honored, and best-beloved.

Let it all go, one foot in the grave and one bag packed. We shall go to our end in the warm glow of the past, burning up the memories, all the clutter given back.

Her strategy for honoring the dead had always been to take action – solve the mystery, punish the criminal. But what did you do when there was no one to punish? When there were no answers to find? How do you assimilate that kind of loss without losing your mind?

Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.

Grief, no matter how you try to cater to its wail, has a way of fading away.

What passing bells for these who die as cattle?Only the monstrous anger of the guns.Only the stuttering rifle’s rapid rattleCan patter out their hasty orisons.No mockeries now for them; no prayers, nor bells,Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,The shrill demented choirs of wailing shells,And bugles calling for them from sad shires.What candles may...

My mother went on and on about it. Actually she went off on a tangent, I told her about your mother at one point and she went all (H starts doing a lightly French accent) it is not fair for your friend, she is not going to get the important boredoms and mournings and melancholies...

A dead body is much more fascinating than a live one, and I have learned that most corpses tell better stories.

Society gets by from the help of its citizens.

The rare opportunity to exist, no matter how brief, is worth the pain left in the wake of its disappearance.

Help me to understand, what my grief has prevented me from seeing – within.

I don’t give a shit, Dad!””Well I do! I absolutely give a shit! This will completely exhaust you.””It’s my body. I can do what I like!””So you don’t care about your body now?””No, I’m sick of it! I’m sick of doctors and needles and blood tests and transfusions. I’m sick of being stuck in a...

[Howard’s] eyes were open and very clear. I’d forgotten what a beautiful gray they were–illness and medicine had regularly glazed them over; now they were bright and attentive, and he was watching me, consciously, through long lashes. Lungs, heart may have stopped but the optic nerves were still sending messages to a brain which, those...

It was inevitable, of course, but somehow it didn’t seem right to Alex that they would never remember the sound of Carly’s laughter, or know how deeply she’d once loved them.

When you look at pictures of people you know are dead, there is something different about the eyes. As if they anticipated their particular fate.It is a visceral recognition. I told myself I was getting too fanciful and went to bed.

Warm summer sun, shine brightly here, Warm Southern wind, blow softly here, Green sod above, lie light, lie light, Good night, dear heart; good night, good night.

…él es un fantasma recién muerto. Se convirtió en fantasma porque equivocó el momento de su muerte.

I’d love to live forever except the person that made this game board has a tendency to occasionally knock some pieces 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...

I’ll try to be around and about. But if I’m not, then you know that I’m behind your eyelids, and I’ll meet you there

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...

I sit with my knees pulled in tight and my arms wrapped around my shins. I can no longer feel my feet, as if blood refuses to spread so far from my heart.

I don’t know what happens after we die. It doesn’t seem to me like there can be much past this. But I suppose I can conceive that what we make and do can last beyond us. Maybe in a different place, on another plane.

Si me convierto será porque es preferible que muera un creyente a que lo haga un ateo.

A girl about her own age reached out and took hold of her hand. The girl was tall and thin. She had long black hair streaked with red, and the whites of her green eyes stood out against the black coal dust that covered her face. Her blue and white dress hung in tatters, and...

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear?

Ya me sobrará tiempo para descansar cuando me muera, pero esta eventualidad no está todavía en mis proyectos.

Death, of course, should not be feared, but awaited with certain wonder. To die was to step across a threshold into a new world, unknown, unimaginable.

Are you afraid to die?’Cause it scares the hell outta me,And the end is all I can see,And it scares the hell outta me,That the end is all I can see.

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

The dead teach this great lesson, which we are loathe to learn: we too will die.

Nem csak hazai terepen futottam, hanem sokfelé. A levegő áramlásával együtt fogadtam be idegen városokat és tájakat. Ha nem a lábával, hanem a fejével fut az ember, miként Lovelock, akkor a kívánatos izommunka jellegét és mértékét a légzés ritmusával állítja be. Az egyenletes légzés köti meg a látványt a futó emlékezetében. S ha figyelme arányosan...

Even the reeking dark in the lion’s cage seemed precious and infinitely preferable to whatever lay beyond. She would go out like the flame of a candle. Where does the candle flame go when the candle is blown out?She laid her painted face against the iron bars and bared her teeth at death.

If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.

Sullivan had her Crucifix Soldier and now I have mine. No. I am the soldier. Teacup is the cross.

We defy augury. There is special providence inthe fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not tocome, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come—thereadiness is all. Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows what is’tto leave betimes, let be. (Hamlet...

As Ossie Jones crept out of his body and into the mist, his heart murmured till it was silent.

There’s death and life, you see. We all shine on. A leaf, a star, a song, a laugh. Notice the little things, because somebody is reaching out to you. …Somebody loves you.

I will simply die, as you will simply die, when our hearts stop beating. And instead of the fires of Hell or the clouds of Heaven, there will be a chorus of hungry worms or fish, depending on how we go. Isn’t that what really terrifies you most of all, why you force yourself against...

Opium makes you quick-witted – perhaps only because it calms the nerves and stills the emotions. Nothing, not even death, seems so important.