Quotes
Quotes about Death
Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided.
Death in the pot.
The land of darkness and the shadow of death.
The sorrows of death compassed me.
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.
The righteous hath hope in his death.
Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave.
We have made a covenant with death, and with hell are we at agreement.
My little daughter lieth at the point of death.
The wages of sin is death.
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
Be thou faithful unto death.
To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.
In the midst of life we are in death.
They say that the soul of man is immortal: at one time it comes to an end - that which is called death - and at another is born again, but is never finally exterminated.
Death is one of two things. Either it is annihilation and the dead have no consciousness of anything; or, as we are told, it is really a change: a migration of the soul from this place to another.
Life has to go on, in spite of other people's deaths
The fear of solitude is at the bottom the fear of the double, the figure which appears one day and always heralds death
He had got death over with, then. He was, in a sense, lucky. Perhaps posthumous life was better than the real thing. Oh God, yes, I remember Enderby, what a man. Eater, drinker, wencher, and such exotic adventures. You could go on living without all the trouble of still being alive. Your character got blurred and mingled with those of other dead men, wittier, handsomer, themselves more vital now that they were dead. And there was oneâs work, good or bad, but still a death-cheater. It wasnât death that was the that was the trouble, of course, it was dying.
And yet he was supposed to start thinking of death. It was the leaving of things unfinished that was so intolerable. It was all very well for Jesus Christ, not himself a writer though no mean orator, to talk about not thinking of the morrow. If youâd started a long poem you had to think of the bloody morrow.
Human pain meant but little in the Gulf War's visual grammar, a big feast of death to feed the cinecamera.
For we know the world to exist only by our seeing it. You shut eyes in a man's death and in a sense you kill the universe
Your true author speaks now, I that die these deaths, that feed this flame.
I dare all for the Lord Jesus. I owe him a death.
Life is death because it moves towards death from its very beginning
