Nothing wilts faster than laurels rested upon.

I wouldn't mind dying in a plane crash. It'd be a good way to go. I don't want to die in my sleep, or of old age, or OD. . . I want to feel what it's like. I want to taste it, hear it, smell it. Death is only going to happen to you once; I dont want to miss it.

Better to die once and for all than to live in continual terror.

A dying man needs to die, as a sleepy man needs to sleep, and there comes a time when it is wrong, as well as useless, to resist.

Death is beautiful. It alone gives love its true habitat.

Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we shall die.

That's the good part of dying; when you've nothing to lose, you run the risk you want.

Once again your mind explodes with a searing pain. A floodgate of memories bursts wide. Yet it is her face that keeps haunting you. Always her face. Who is she? Then things begin to crystallize. You remember your funeral. Begging and pleading for someone to release you from the darkness. You're not dead. You can't be. Then your feel her presence. Warm, caring, soothing. But somewhere deep inside she feels empty now. She has no reason. No meaning. No soul. But your soul lives. While hers is dying.

I remember there was someone. Someone to love. Someone to hate. And I was something. Something special. And proud of it. For a time. Then they turned on me. He turned on me. I remember. . . dying.

If that is what you think, I should not want you, even if you asked to come. You have made your choice, you can be what you want to be. But I will bury him: and if I must die, I say that this crime is holy: I shall lie down with him in death, and I shall be as dear to him as he to me. It is the dead, not the living, who make the longest demands. We die forever. . . you may do as you like.

Go away, Ismene: I shall be hating you soon, and the dead will, too. For your words are hateful. Leave me my foolish plan! I am not afraid of the danger: if it means death, it will not be the worst of deaths - death without honor.

. . . for it is a good thing to escpae from death, but it is no great pleasure to bring death to a friend.

I knew I must die, even without your decree: I am only mortal. And if I must die now, before it is my time to die, surely this is no hardship: can anyone living, as I live, with evil all about me, think death less than a friend? This death of mine is of no importance; but if I have left my brother lying in death unburied, I should have suffered. Now I do not. You smile at me. Ah, Creon. Think me a fool, if you like; but it may well be that a fool convicts me of folly.

What more do you want than my death?
Nothing. That gives me everything.

You shall not lessen my death by sharing it.
What do I care for life when you are dead?

You are alive, but I belong to death.

Look at the moon. How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. One might fancy she was looking for dead things.

And now he lies dead with the dead, and she is his at last, his bride in the houses of the dead.

So young, so young to die, I was the fool, not you; and you died for me.

O port of death, deaf world, is there no pity for me? And you, angel of evil, I was dead, and your words are death again.

You are right, if there can be right in so much wrong. The briefest way is best in a world of sorrow.

If dirges and planned lamentations could put off death, men would be singing forever.

Bid me farewell and leave, O leave this body of mine where it is! I shall find death in action. The foe will slay me for pity, or spoils. And to bury me - that will not cost them much. For years now, I have been lingering, obnoxious to heaven and useless to mankind.

Once again, I am moved to fight, yearning for death in my misery, since neither luck nor forethought offered a way out now.

If it's deathwards you go, take us with you! O take us, and come what may!

In any man who dies, there dies with him his first snow and kiss and fight.

Not people die, but worlds die in them.

It does get easier. Everyone has someone close to them die. You don't grieve everyday forever. But there are always going to be moments when it just comes sweeping back.

Life is only a dream, lasting only for a short moment. Death is a reality, lasting for eternity. Understand that death is but an escape from the pains, sorrows and turmoils of life.

Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.

He who doesn't fear death dies only once.

It's funny the way most people love the dead. Once you are dead, you are made for life.

In the long run, we are all dead.

Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.

He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.

The dead have nothing except the memory they've left.

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