People can die of mere imagination.
Catalog
Quotes tagged ‘Death’
Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream.
The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!
First our pleasures die — and then Our hopes, and then our fears — and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust — and we die too.
Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my d…
Some say that gleams of a remoter world Visit the soul in sleep, — that death is slumber, And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber Of those who wake and live.
No more let life divide what death can join together.
I want to die peacefully in my sleep just like Grandma. Not screaming in panic like the passengers of her car.
In peace sons bury fathers, but in war fathers bury sons.
From the very nature of progress, all ages must be transitional. If they were not, the world would be at a stand-still and death would speedily ensue. It is one of the tamest of platitudes but it is always introduced by a flourish of trumpets.
They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.
After the first death, there is no other.
As I shall lie in the grave alone, so in fact I live alone.
Death is terrible, but still more terrible is the feeling that you might live for ever and never die.
Death can only be profitable: there’s no need to eat, drink, pay taxes, offend people, and since a person lies in a grave for hundreds or thousands of years, if you count it up the profit turns out to be enormous.
Do you see that tree? It is dead but it still sways in the wind with the others. I think it would be like that with me. That if I died I would still be part of life in one way or another.
To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.
The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
They live as if they were never going to die, and die as if they had never lived