#death

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph. ↗

— T.S. Eliot

#death #poetry #death

You smell so good," "No, I don't, I smell like death." "You're crazy, you're not dead. You do not smell like death." "I was dead a long time." "And now you're not. Hence the alive smell. ↗

— Amy Tintera

#dead #death #wren #death

My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One of us has got to go. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#death

There are undoubtedly advantages to being dead, said Julius. ↗

— Jonas Jonasson

#humour #death

This is the way I want to die. Torn apart by angry fans who want me to play a different song. ↗

— Regina Spektor

#fans #funny #humor #songwriter #death

Ramadi’s sky was generously filled with stars. Celestial ornaments set against a banner of a deep blue velvet sky. It was a place where hell, death, and heaven were so clear and the closest I’ve felt to all three in my life. ↗

— M.B. Wilmot

#heaven #hell #iraq #iraq-war #ramadi

One-third of our people were dangerously ill, getting worse hourly, and we felt sure of meeting the same fate, with death as our only prospect, which in such a country was much worse yet. ↗

— Alvar N. C. de Vaca

#dangerously #death #fate #felt #getting

What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal. ↗

— Albert Pike

#alone #dies #done #immortal #others

At some point, it's time to stop fighting with death, my thighs and the way things are. And to realize that emotional eating in nothing but bolting from multiple versions of the above: the obsession will stop when the bolting stops. And at that point, we might answer, as spiritual teacher Catherine Ingram did, when someone asked how she allowed herself to tolerate deep sorrow, "I live among the brokenhearted. They allow it. ↗

— Geneen Roth

#self #sorrow #weight #death

When my parents passed on, and we read their wills, we discovered something we didn’t at all expect, especially from our devoutly Catholic mother: they had both left instructions that their bodies be donated to science. We were bewildered and we were pissed. They wanted their cadavers to be used by medical students, they wanted their flesh to be cut into and their cancerous organs examined. We were breathless. They wanted no elaborate funerals, no expense incurred for such stuff – they hated wasting money or time on ceremony, on appearances. When they died there was little left – the house, the cars. And their bodies, and they gave those away. To offer them to strangers was disgusting, wrong, embarrassing. And selfish to us, their children, who would have to live with the thought of their cold weight sinking on silver tables, surrounded by students chewing gum and making jokes about the location of freckles. But then again: Nothing can be preserved. It’s all on the way out, from the second it appears, and whatever you have always has one eye on the exit, and so screw it. As hideous and uncouth as it is, we have to give it all away, our bodies, our secrets, our money, everything we know: All must be given away, given away every day, because to be human means: 1. To be good 2. To save nothing ↗

— Dave Eggers

#humanity #death