Death
Quotes - Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity
“in
this land some of us fuck more than
we
die but most of us die
better
than we fuck”
―
Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell
“If
they tell you that she died of sleeping pills you must know that she died of a
wasting grief, of a slow bleeding at the soul.”
―
Clifford Odets
“Death,
taxes and childbirth! There's never any convenient time for any of them.”
―
Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
“I
saw the world from the stars' point of view, and it looked unbearably lonely.”
―
Shaun David Hutchinson, We Are the Ants
“Choking
with dry tears and raging, raging, raging at the absolute indifference of
nature and the world to the death of love, the death of hope and the death of
beauty, I remember sitting on the end of my bed, collecting these pills and
capsules together and wondering why, why when I felt I had so much to offer, so
much love, such outpourings of love and energy to spend on the world, I was
incapable of being offered love, giving it or summoning the energy with which I
knew I could transform myself and everything around me.”
―
Stephen Fry, Moab Is My Washpot
“When
writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an
incarnation."
[As
attributed by Alastair Reid in Neruda and Borges, The New Yorker, June 24,
1996; as well as in The Talk of the Town, The New Yorker, July 7, 1986]”
―
Jorge Luis Borges
“Those
we love never truly leave us, Harry. There are things that death cannot touch.”
―
Jack Thorne, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Parts One and Two
“Funeral
Blues
Stop
all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent
the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence
the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring
out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let
aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling
on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put
crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let
the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He
was my North, my South, my East and West,
My
working week and my Sunday rest,
My
noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I
thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The
stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack
up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour
away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For
nothing now can ever come to any good.”
―
W.H. Auden , Another Time
“We
may not get to choose how we die, but we can choose how we live.
The
universe may forget us, but it doesn't matter. Because we are the ants, and
we'll keep marching on.”
―
Shaun David Hutchinson, We Are the Ants
“Madame,
all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story
teller who would keep that from you.”
―
Hemingway, Ernest
“I
went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the
essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and
not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
―
Henry David Thoreau, Walden
“Depression
isn't a war you win. It's a battle you fight every day. You never stop, never
get to rest. It's one bloody fray after another.”
―
Shaun David Hutchinson, We Are the Ants
“Death,
therefore, the most awful of evils, is nothing to us, seeing that, when we are,
death is not come, and, when death is come, we are not.”
―
Epicurus
“The
thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a
flower.”
―
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
“I've
crossed some kind of invisible line. I feel as if I've come to a place I never
thought I'd have to come to. And I don't know how I got here. It's a strange
place. It's a place where a little harmless dreaming and then some sleepy,
early-morning talk has led me into considerations of death and annihilation.”
―
Raymond Carver, Where I'm Calling From: New and Selected Stories
“Every
widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving,
to realize she slept a good night's sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast,
and doesn't hear her husband's ghost all the time, but only some of the time.
Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child
finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt
lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your
great-great-great-grandchildren's will be. But we learn to live in that love.”
―
Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated
“We
throw our parties; we abandon our families to live alone in Canada; we struggle
to write books that do not change the world, despite our gifts and our
unstinting efforts, our most extravagant hopes. We live our lives, do whatever
we do, and then we sleep. It's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out
windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of
us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time
itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives
seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything
we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know
these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more
difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than
anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so...”
―
Michael Cunningham, The Hours
“Be
ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.”
―
Horace Mann
“You
will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent
the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me,
loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me
through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic
nature.”
―
Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla
