1,046 Quotes About Death-and-dying

People kept giving me space, all of us hoping my grief had a half-life, but I didn't need space. I needed people to say Miles's name out loud. I needed them not to flinch when I said it. Weren't they curious about the color of his eyes? I needed them to acknowledge not just that he had died but that he had lived.

I used to think that grief was about looking backward, old men saddled with regrets or young ones pondering should-haves. I see now that it is about eyes squinting through tears into an unbearable future. The world cannot be remade by the sheer force of love. A brutal world demands capitulation to what seems impossible--separation. Brokeness. An end without an ending.

But never has the Call been so clearAs now, when death’s cool handEases my spirit from my fevered body--And I answer the Call of the Master—The Call to new Heights.

Grief ate at these doctors, distracting them from both their families and their patients. Many reported withdrawing from emotional involvement with their patients and that their patients had noticed they weren't fully present.

Every day part of our mind exercises are devoted to bracing ourselves against the advancing penultimate act that foreshadows our sorrowful ultimate demise. It is foolish to deny our destiny. We must play life’s mocking game to the predetermined finish line. Every twist and turn is perilous. Fate is comparable to walking on black ice: we are eventually bound to slip. The untiring testing hand of fate will trip each of us up on one or more occasion before it delivers its fatal blow.

The awful truth is that the graveyard is every person’s final destiny.

But when it comes down to it, we all die alone.

As I listened I felt a dull numbness, like the effect of chloroform, rather than the primal, anarchic agony you usually feel when you encounter someone you have loved now turned to dust, in some object like a little bowl, and you are required to believe that it is still the same person who once smiled at you.

60 beats in minutes of mine, is not the living aspiration. Libretto is the only pulse doing of voice, visions, vapoursation in me is continuing if the end comes, it's just the libretto has touched me too closer.