You die in time to realize somethings aren’t worthwhile.

You embrace death because life doesn’t exist without it.

And I wonder if the moment I die will know it’s the moment I die.

I like my whiskey like I like my men: on the rocks, ready for death as I devour at their first intent.

You have to die to become alive and that’s why tragedy seems so beautiful.

I was never scared that you were dying. I was scared that you wouldn’t be here when I needed you, but you were – I just couldn’t touch you.

I’d rather be oblivious and ignorant in regards to him. I don’t want to know if and when he dies because honestly, there’s a chance I will follow him.

The meaning of life is to die living it.

Who knows if you’re alive anymore, but better yet, who knows if I’m even alive anymore?