He whom the gods love dies young, while he is in health, has his senses and his judgments sound.

watchword” shall rally my faltering breath;For while from life’s fever my God sets me free,Jehovah Tsidkenu, my death song shall be.

Beauty and love pass, I know… Oh, there’s sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-

We all must face death and walk with it. But we also must love and live in it.

Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be the best. Oh, hear them not;

The living are more demanding; the dead can wait.

Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.

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...

Absolutely not, why should I be afraid of something I know nothing about.” His orientation toward the unknown of death was not to fill the gap in his understanding with horror but potential.

I was learning that when you’re with someone who is dying, you may need to celebrate the past, live the present, and mourn the future all at the same time.

…every human being is doomed to die, which is the greatest of all failures.

In a world where the most consequential things happen by chance, or from unfathomable causes, you don’t look to reason for help. You consort with mysteries… They have been killed in place of you –...

…all a guy can do is die once. The big difference is whether he dies clean – or dirty… (“I’m Dangerous Tonight”)

…Matt. I didn’t think they’d kill you… I’m so sorry…

How unhappy does one have to be before living seems worse than dying?

Death is not a reaper, like they say, nor even a friend. It is a dark, fierce water, an inundation.

No, I am not all right, I want to say. Have you been to my house? Have you seen how empty it is?

Death accepts no excuse,Tears do not move its heart.

Hungry for beautiful words, the fox comes rooting around in the hedge, almost too close to the fire. He reads my mind with one glance and is gone. All my poetry is now trotting around...

How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects...

The singers make much of kings who valiantly die in battle, but your life is worth more than a sword. To me at least, who gave it to you.

He had heard many of his customers talking about ‘repetitive strain injury’ over the years and he was sure that, if he was capable, he too would suffer this – especially with the industrial tooling...

The death of dogma is the birth of morality.

She simply didn’t have an interest in men anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them, she just knew how easily they broke.

No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.

Death is only tragic if you have tragically wasted your life on meaninglessness.

And on it flows. I long to lie down quietly by the banks of a blue lake and die … and when I’m dead for my body to be consumed by birds and beasts, leaving...

My ashtray is full, the carton of cigarettes is empty, and I just cremated grandpa. But I never inhaled—or told him I loved him.

So it is said, for him who understands Heavenly joy, life is the working of Heaven; death is the transformation of things. In stillness, he and the yin share a single Virtue; in motion, he...

It came to Mary now that her mother had been right, after all; Mary had been born for this. In sixteen years she’d shot along the shortest route she could find between life and death,...

I took the thin magazine from the pouch in front of me and began to thumb through it. I felt self-conscious, as if I shouldn’t be there. My mind began to wander, as I knew...

Whatever is destroyed, the act of destruction does not vary much. Beauty if vapour from the pit of death.

The illusion started to vanish & so does my consciousness and I closed my eyes . Every thing is just peace.

To get through the night, I sometimes imagined the sky filled with a canopy of stars. I imagined that each star contained the soul of a girl or boy who had died too young, and...

Leonard asks me if there’s anything I need to know before he dies, I think about it for a minute, turn to him, say what’s the meaning of life, Leonard? He laughs, says that’s an...

Bambi was inspired, and said trembling, “There is Another who is over us all, over us and over Him.

When I die I’m donating my body to science, because everybody loves a free buffet.

I stepped on the bug to prove I love her, and show that I’d kill for her. Is there really any mystery as to why the guy she was talking to before me just disappeared...

When Sherri asks questions about who would find me if I killed myself and what their reaction would be, I think that whoever knew me would be sad. But then everybody would get over it....

Survival is running from death.Our whole life is running from death, but we all just meet it while we are running from it! what a failure is this try!

Between death and hell a bridge shining silver wings offers his soul hope.

The Nevernever is dying, human. It grows smaller and smaller every decade. Too much progress, too much technology. Mortals are losing their faith in anything but science. Even the children of man are consumed by...

And in it all, the sensation of shaking my fists at the sky, shaking my fists high up to the sky, because that is what we do when someone dies too early, too beautiful, too...

You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.

The richest people in the world build networks and invest in people; everyone else looks for work and invests in survival.

I was caught in a love triangle with one dead side.

It was then I truly realised the whale is no more a fish than I am. So much blood. This was not like the fish on the quay, fresh caught, lying flipping and flopping, death...

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.

The dog leash was still tied tight around the oak tree in the back, stretched worn and limp across the green grass as if trying to escape to freedom; and he buried his wife without...

[T]here is something to recommend a story that ends.