Oh! that fear When the heart longs to know, what it is death to hear.
I believe the moment of birth Is when we have knowledge of death I believe the season of birth Is the season of sacrifice.
I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death.
I venture that those of us who are most serene when faced with the possibility of nothingness are the ones who've reached furthest to the downward and upward of their beings.
It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature, that, when the heart is touched and softened by some tranquil happiness or affectionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes over it most powerfully and irresistibly. It would seem almost as though our better thoughts and sympathies were charms, in virtue of which the soul is enabled to hold some vague and mysterious intercourse with the spirits of those whom we loved in life. Alas! how often and how long may these patient angels hover around us, watching for the spell which is so soon forgotten!
I leave my parents here behind And all my friends to love resigned 'Tis grief to go, but death to stay Farewell -- I'm gone with love away.
Only when you accept that one day you'll die can you let go, and make the best out of life. And that's the big secret. That's the miracle.
Humanity should question itself, once more, about the absurd and always unfair phenomenon of war, on whose stage of death and pain only remain standing the negotiating table that could and should have prevented it.
Being dead will be no different from being unborn -- I shall be just as I was in the time of William the Conqueror or the dinosaurs or the trilobites. There is nothing to fear in that.
There is nothing ugly about death; but man, out of his fear, has made even the word, death ugly and unutterable. People don't like to talk about it. They won't even listen to the word death.
You couldn't find nobody deader, not if you'd sarched for a week. Why, door nails, and Julius Caesar, and things o' that description, would ha' been lively compared with your poor ma when I see her. Lively! that's what they'd ha' been.
Someone asked me what three things I would save if my house was on fire. I said my cat, my salamander and one of the twins.
If this is death, Guild Hunter,he thought to his mortal as angelfire scored through his bones and touched his heart, then I will see you on the other side.
Death is like thunder in two particulars; we are alarmed, at the sound of it; and it is formidable only from that which preceded it.
Soon is the struggle past, and to the earth, To the eternal sun, I render back These atoms, joined in me for pain and pleasure.
Ask yourself these two questions: Do I remember at every moment that I am dying, and that everyone and everything else is, and so treat all beings at all times with compassion? Has my understanding of death and impermanence become so keen and so urgent that I am devoting every second to the pursuit of enlightenment? If you can answer "yes" to both of these, then you really understand impermanence.
The man who finds the ministry an easy life will also find that it will bring a hard death.
Death doesn't care about personalities - he's more interested in meeting quotas.
Let us damn America, let us damn Israel, let us damn them and their allies until death.
When the poet died his cat was put to death and mummified.
