DEATH QUOTES XIX

quotations about death

Tell me the truth about death. I don't know what it is. We have them, then they are gone but they stay in our minds. Their stories are part of us as long as we live and as long as we tell them or write them down.

ELLEN GILCHRIST

Good Housekeeping, May 2011


Death is an antidote for this life, and it makes another more stable form of life which is insoluble in everything.

AUSTIN O'MALLEY

Keystones of Thought


The living is a passing traveler;
The dead, a man come home.

LI BAI

"The Old Dust"


Who knows but life be that which men call death,
And death what men call life?

EURIPIDES

Phrixus [fragment]


Death is the side of life which is turned away from us.

RAINER MARIA RILKE

letter to W. von Hulewicz, The Duino Elegies


Oh, sure, I've come close to dying a few times, but usually I was having so much fun at the time that I barely noticed the danger.

BUZZ ALDRIN

No Dream Is Too High: Life Lessons From a Man Who Walked on the Moon


Death hath this also; that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.

FRANCIS BACON

Essays


Death lies dormant in each of us and will bloom in time.

DEAN KOONTZ

Odd Thomas


Death augments distance and dulls the memory. Death reconciles.

LEONID ANDREYEV

He Who Gets Slapped


Taunting Death ... means pitting oneself against a wily enemy who cannot lose.

J. K. ROWLING

The Tales of Beedle the Bard


The grave itself is but a covered bridge,
Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

The Golden Legend


Certain, when I was born, so long ago,
Death drew the tap of life and let it flow;
And ever since the tap has done its task,
And now there's little but an empty cask.

GEOFFREY CHAUCER

The Canterbury Tales


The body is placed under the earth, and after a certain period there remains no vestige even of its form. This is that contemplation of inexhaustible melancholy, whose shadow eclipses the brightness of the world. The common observer is struck with dejection of the spectacle. He contends in vain against the persuasion of the grave, that the dead indeed cease to be. The corpse at his feet is prophetic of his own destiny. Those who have preceded him, and whose voice was delightful to his ear; whose touch met his like sweet and subtle fire: whose aspect spread a visionary light upon his path -- these he cannot meet again.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

The Necessity of Atheism


Now that you are dead,
You are splendid.
Photographs of people who have just died
Are worth twenty percent more,
And for suicides
There is an additional five percent.
Now that you are dead
You are much in demand.

KOBO ABE

The Ghost is Here


There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

"The Reaper and the Flowers"


There are too many poems about death. Death, churchyards, wormy cadavers. Death is really a small part of life, and it's not the part that you want to concentrate on, because life is life and it's full of untold particulars.

NICHOLSON BAKER

The Anthologist


It's death, that's what I'm suffering from. The systematic encroachment of the big D.

JOHN LE CARRÉ

Smiley's People


We may, indeed, say that the hour of death is uncertain, but when we say this we think of that hour as situated in a vague and remote expanse of time; it does not occur to us that it can have any connexion with the day that has already dawned and can mean that death -- or its first assault and partial possession of us, after which it will never leave hold of us again -- may occur this very afternoon, so far from uncertain, this afternoon whose time-table, hour by hour, has been settled in advance.

MARCEL PROUST

The Guermantes Way


Fear ye not
The wrath of any man, nor hide your word
Within your breast: the day of death and doom
Awaits alike the freeman and the slave.

AESCHYLUS

The Libation Bearers


Far happier he, who, young and full of pride
And radiant with the glory of the sun,
Leaves earth before his singing time is done.
All wounds of Time the graveyard flowers hide,
His beauty lives, as fresh as when he died.

JOYCE KILMER

"The Clouded Sun"