#death

When the lad for longing sighs, Mute and dull of cheer and pale, If at death's own door he lies, Maiden, you can heal his ail. Lovers' ills are all to buy: The wan look, the hollow tone, The hung head, the sunken eye, You can have them for your own. Buy them, buy them: eve and morn Lovers' ills are all to sell. Then you can lie down forlorn; But the lover will be well. ↗

— A.E. Housman

#death

Even on especially hard days, I began to notice him everywhere, setting a table before me in the presence of my enemies, pursuing me with his love. Both the child and the cynic walk through the valley of the shadow of death. The cynic focuses on the darkness; the child focuses on the Shepherd. ↗

— Paul Miller

#death

I was court-martialed in my absence, and sentenced to death in my absence, so I said they could shoot me in my absence. ↗

— Thomas Hardy

#death

And with pain and joy, their hearts learned to hear that double lesson which leads to a happy death. ↗

— Albert Camus

#life #death

Life is just one long day separated into sections by sleep. Life never stops happening until you are dead. So whatever happens-love, grief, hate, shame- never disappears. It just gets easier to live with. It just scabs over, waiting for something else significant to happen. ↗

— Sunshine O'Donnell

#life #death

How am I going to tell the kids? How do I tell the man that I love, the man that I swore I’d grow old with that we won’t have that happy ending that he and I have worked so hard for? How do I say goodbye to all of you? How do I let go? ↗

— Nicole Ireland

#sadness #death

...Love, my lads! And above all, love pretty, charming girls; they are the remedy for evil, they give a sweet smell to rottenness, they exchange life for death...Love, my lads! ↗

— Machado de Assis

#death

I'd suffered many losses in recent years after my father mother uncle aunt and cousin had all passed away. In her final years my mother often lamented that there was no one alive who had known her as a girl and I was starting to understand how spooked she'd felt. I wasn't sure I could take any more abandonments. One succumbs so easily to mind spasms, worry spasms. [p. 95] ↗

— Diane Ackerman

#death

The wedding was in Monterey, a sombre boding ceremony in a little Protestant chapel. The church had so often seen two ripe bodies die by the process of marriage that it seemed to celebrate a mystic double death with its ritual. ↗

— John Steinbeck

#death

Funerals aren't scheduled. ↗

— Benjamin J. Carey

#death #destiny #dying #funerals #life