Listen to me: die after me, all right? I don’t care what else you do, where you go, how you screw up your life, just… survive. Outlive me, please.

Sorry doesn’t make anything better. It’s just a word to fill the space of a loss of words.

May you find comfort and peace in every situation.

Do not wait. If there is something you wish to do, go do it. Death comes for busy people too. It will not pause and return at a more convenient time.

Being smart takes patience. Being wise takes pain. Being apathetic takes practice. Being in love takes everything…away.

It reminds me that no embrace will ever feel the same again, because no one will ever be like her again, because she’s gone. She’s gone, and crying feels so useless, so stupid, but it’s all I can do.

Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

You may say suicide is a loss of control and cowardly. Foolish as it may sound, I am prepared to argue.

THE Biggest enemy of Truth is known as Facts in our Society

On no subject are our ideas more warped and pitiable than on death. … Let children walk with nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that...

Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

A lie near to truth is always difficult to catch

This time it is real — all must die, and where could mountaineer find a more glorious death!

Sleep: the stepchild of Death.

I will take a new approach to death, because what is important about death is not the dead. It’s the living. Those of us left behind.

Shut up. Don’t make me tell you again.”We shut up, which I find hysterically funny.

And thus we all are nighingThe truth we fear to know:Death will end our cryingFor friends that come and go.

Staring out to sea, I finally forced myself to stop thinking of her as someone still somewhere, if only in memory, still obscurely alive, breathing, doing, moving, but as a shovelful of ashes already scattered; as a broken link, a biological dead end, an eternal withdrawal from reality, a once complex object that now dwindled,...

Hef ég drepið mann eða hef ég ekki drepið mann? Hver hefur drepið mann og hver hefur ekki drepið mann? Hvenær drepur maður mann og hvenær drepur maður ekki mann? Fari í helvíti sem ég drap mann. Og þó.

When a country is defeated, there remain only mountains and rivers, and on a ruined castle in spring only grasses thrive. I sat down on my hat and wept bitterly till I almost forgot time.A thicket of summer grassIs all that remainsOf the dreams and ambitionsOf ancient warriors.

He made me feel unhinged . . . like he could take me apart and put me back together again and again.

A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

Everybody know death is inevitably coming, but it never fails to catch everybody by surprise everytime one is going

For two days I went about my business. I travelled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.

Now we gotta be all politically correct. It’s like the Cold Wars never happened.

He’d grown eager to hand off his things, as if the weight of his possessions kept him tethered to this earth, and by giving them away, he could snip those strings.

Sam studied his brother. At one time he thought Frankie had a good head on his shoulders. Sure, he had a temper. And he was conceited. But he always used common sense. But now he wasn’t so sure if that were true. He had brought him his lifeless fiancé. Like a dog dragging in a...

It’s lucky I was there. Then again, who am I kidding? I’m in most places at least once, and in 1943, I was just about everywhere.

Death cuts off possibilities. Even if they were possibilities you never meant to act on, it feels differentwhen they’re gone.

You see, I cannot share my space with them. Not only am I severely claustrophobic but I abhor the mass. In general, I do not like people very much. Those I cannot sand are the average ones that eat with their hands out of plastic plates and travel in buses to work. I am horrified...

The power of the dead is that we think they see us all the time. The dead have a presence. Is there a level of energy composed solely of the dead? They are also in the ground, of course, asleep and crumbling. Perhaps we are what they dream.

Give me liberty or give me death.”[From a speech given at Saint John’s Church in Richmond, Virginia on March 23, 1775 to the Virginia House of Burgesses; as first published in print in 1817 in William Wirt’s Life and Character of Patrick Henry.]

People get bitten. But I won’t.’ I found myself saying, ‘You will, you will. These snakes don’t know you find death inconceivable. They don’t know you’re young and strong and you think death applies to everyone but you. They will bite you and you will die.

Time was the most precious thing in the world to me, and I’d just given her all of it. Because I was falling for her. Because I cared for her. Because I wanted to give her something to remember me by, even if it would eventually fade like its namesake. Time… what an absolute horror-inducing...

Love burns. Whiskey burns. George Burns. What do all three have in common? They’re all dead to me.

If the whole world seems like it’s against you, it helps to know that you’ve still got home. A safe place. It just takes one person—a teacher, a friend, a parent. If I didn’t have you and Dad, if you hadn’t made it so clear you loved me as much as you did, or if...

Even though I buried our love in a coffin, it isn’t dead. No, our love is very much alive. Or at least it was yesterday, when I went to visit the cemetery.

A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.

I hid Mrs. Frozenwater’s body in the ice cube trays in my freezer. Better to keep her there than let her memory thaw out and evaporate. Scotch on the rocks, anyone?

…it does not matter if we are forgotten; what matters is the effect we have on those around us and those who come after us. What matters is how our own lives affect the larger, perpetual community of the living.

Most people have a list of 100 books to read before they die, or 100 places to visit. Not me. I have a list of 100 birthdays to see. No need to write them down, they’re simply 50 through 150. Another list of mine is 100 people to meet before I die who look exactly...

Every decent man in America ought to swoon with joy for the opportunity to crush with his heel the woolly head of this black lizard, to keep him from scuttling on his belly farther over the earth and spitting forth his venom of death!

I’m willing to die for my beliefs, but over the course of a lifetime and not all at once right now.

The dead person is not truly dead until the last person who rememebers them dies.

The other night my grandpa stopped breathing. I thought he was trying to set a world record for holding his breath, but after ten minutes of me cheering him on, he had to be boring and go and die on us and totally spoil our dinner. The good news was that I got to finish...

The story of a life can be as long or as short as the teller wishes. Whether the life is tragic or enlightened, the classic gravestone inscription marking simply the dates of birth and death has, in its brevity, much to recommend it.

I killed a man for his shoes, and then I realized his feet were much smaller than mine. So I walked around barefoot for a week, in honor of a man who died a senseless death. What a tragedy he didn’t wear larger shoes, so that his death could have meant something.

She gave herself a hard twist and fell into a sitting position, staring at me with those maggot-filled doll’s eyes.

But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,If I am dead, as dead I well may be,You’ll come and find the place where I am lying,And kneel and say Ave there for me,And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,For you will bend and...

A riverless silence made the air heavy.