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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #death
[Le] jour qui vient de passer, tout débordant d'activité qu'il ait été, ne manque jamais, à la seconde ou enfin le sommeil va m'assommer, de me sembler suspect, dénué de toute valeur, de me faire trembler de peur. C'est toujours avec angoisse que j'anticipe le retour de la nuit, le moment de la grande rencontre avec moi-même, le moment d'ajouter un autre zéro au total du passé, le moment de me rapprocher de tout un pas de la frontière au-dela de laquelle il n'y a plus rien, même plus de futur. ↗
I suppose I wouldn’t desire having memorial services after I pass by… I think that it would have a precious little to do with my inworld immortality because I think I’ll have a precious little to do with the person to be remembered… Who can really tell? ↗
This is unbelievable,” James said. “I mean, you guys are out here planning to build an armored car out of my dad’s old, and I mean old, car. Mom is in the house making cookies like this is just an everyday occurrence. Once this starts, you guys probably won’t live through it, and nobody is acting like it’s a big deal. I don’t know that I’m comfortable with my parents preparing for their funeral.” “Everyone has to die of something, son,” Rick said. James looked stunned. “So you are thinking about that as a possibility? Then why go to all the trouble of putting armor on the car and putting in that big engine?” “Because I have to get back to the starting point, which in this case is the Deal’s Gap,” Rick answered. “And the car won’t make it if I don’t make modifications.” “Once they figure out what you’re doing and where you’re going, they’ll ambush you. You won’t be able to get out of it. They’ll gun you and Mom down in cold blood.” James was trying to hide the emotion from his face. ↗
Lady Moon rose an' gazed o'er my busted'n'beautsome Valleys with silv'ry'n'sorryin' eyes, an' the dingos mourned for the died uns. ↗
Death continues to stalk the streets, stealing the souls of our children as they sleep. We're running out of fingers to close their eyes, voices to bless their souls, hands to dig their graves. Poisonous fumes from their unburied bodies contaminate the alleys, and the ghosts of those who have been buried rise nightly. Their tiny forms dance above their tombstones, an agonising reminder that we've failed them. ↗
