Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.
People living deeply have no fear of death.
At the temple there is a poem called Loss carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.
That is — your friend? Philtatos, Achilles replied, sharply. Most beloved.
It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.
A man with outward courage dares to die; a man with inner courage dares to live.
Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I have a call.
If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
and he suddenly knew that if she killed herself, he would die. Maybe not immediately, maybe not with the same blinding rush of pain, but it would happen. You couldn't live for very long without a heart.
Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for.
The meaning of life is that it stops.
His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come. Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.
When you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.
Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.
Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.
I have done it, she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S. Go, she says. He waits for you. In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.
Does it hurt? The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. Dying? Not at all, said Sirius. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.