13,737 Quotes About Death
- Author Ann Cleeves
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His thoughts were wheeling and dipping like the gulls over the estuary, groping for an explanation, feeling at last he was making sense of what lie behind Walden's death...
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- Author Pier Paolo Pasolini
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First the mania for confession,then the mania for clarity,issued from you, dark, hypocriticalsentiment! Let them nowcondemn my every passion, let themdrag me through the mud, call me twisted,foul pervert, dilettante, perjurer;you keep me apart, give me life’s assurance:I burn at the stake, play the card of fireand win: I win this small,vast possession, my infinite,miserable pitywhich makes even righteous anger my friend.And I can do this because I’ve endured you too long!
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- Author Sue Grafton
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The dead are mute, but the living still have voice with which to protest their innocence. Often their objections are noisy and pious, impossible to refute since the person who could condemn them has been silenced forever.
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- Author Truman Capote
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Duntz asked Smith, 'Added up, how much money did you get from the Cutters?' 'Between forty and fifty dollars.
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- Author Peter Swanson (Goodreads Author)
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Why was the taking of a life considered so terrible? In no time at all there would be all new people on this planet, and everyone who was in the planet now would have died, some terribly, some like the flick of a switch. The real reason that murder was considered so transgressive was because of the people that were left behind . The loved ones. But what if someone was not really loved?
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- Author Charles de Leusse
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We knit alone our life, before seeing by it our shroud. (Nous tricotons notre vie seule, Avant d'y voir notre linceul)
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- Author Amie Kaufman
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I would say inhuman, but your kind perfected the clockwork of murder long ago.
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- Author K. Weikel
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I knew I had a choice. Either let you die and have the world blanketed with evil, or save you and make one dark moment for my best friend while the world continues to grow with light.
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- Author H.S. Crow
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Raw anguish slithers through my brittle bones as the deathly call rots the air. Who murdered you old friend? The forest has no words to identify the hand, only erratic echo.
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