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Dead Quotes (page 29)

I, for my part, wonder of what sort of feeling, mind or reason that man was possessed who was first to pollute his mouth with gore, and to allow his lips to touch the flesh of a murdered being: who spread his table with the mangled forms of dead bodies, and claimed as daily food and dainty dishes what but now were beings endowed with movement, perception and with voice. Plutarch
I blew the horn a few times, hoping to call up an iguana. Get the buggers moving. They were out there, I knew, in that goddamn sea of cactus--hunkered down, barely breathing, and every one of the stinking little bastards was loaded with deadly poison. Hunter S. Thompson
Of four infernal rivers that disgorge/ Into the burning Lake their baleful streams;/Abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,/Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;/Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud/ Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon/ Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage./ Far off from these a slow and silent stream,/ Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls/ Her wat'ry Labyrinth whereof who drinks,/ Forthwith his former state and being forgets,/ Forgets both joy and grief,... John Milton
As long as you live and breath, believe. Believe for those who cannot. Believe even if you stopped believing. Believe for the sake of the dead, for love, to keep your heart beating, believe. Never give up, never despair, let no mystery confound you into the conclusion that mystery cannot be yours. Mark Helprin
Charles Bukowski quote: "my beerdrunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees..."
my beerdrunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world. Charles Bukowski
Thornton Wilder quote: "The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude."
The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude. Thornton Wilder
To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self: a deadly banishment! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? Unless it be to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon; She is my essence, and I leave to be, If I be not by her fair... William Shakespeare
When the sea goes down, there will come from the mainland boats and men. And they will find ten dead bodies and an unsolved problem on Indian Island. Agatha Christie
And this was perhaps the first time in my life that death occurred to me as a reality. I thought of the people before me who had looked down at the river and gone to sleep beneath it. I wondered about them. I wondered how they had done it—it, the physical act. I had thought of suicide when I was much younger, as, possibly, we all have, but then it would have been for revenge, it would have been my way of informing the world how awfully it had made me suffer. But the silence of the evening, as... James Baldwin
I never felt so fervently thankful, so soothed, so tranquil, so filled with a blessed peace, as I did yesterday when I learned that Michael Angelo was dead. Mark Twain
Suzanne Collins quote: "because I have learned the hard way how deadly these beauties..."
because I have learned the hard way how deadly these beauties can be. Suzanne Collins
A book is a physical object in a world of physical objects. It is a set of dead symbols. And then the right reader comes along, and the words—or rather the poetry behind the words, for the words themselves are mere symbols—spring to life, and we have a resurrection of the word. Jorge Luis Borges
George R. R. Martin quote: "Books are dead men talking."
Books are dead men talking. George R. R. Martin
The dead boy in his arms hung with his head back and those partly opened eyes beheld nothing at all out of that passing landscape of street or wall or paling sky or the figures of the children who stood blessing themselves in the gray light. This man and his burden passed on forever out of that nameless crossroads and the women stepped once more into the street and the children followed and all continued on to their appointed places which as some believe were chosen long ago even to the... Cormac McCarthy
In my craft or sullen art. Exercised in the still night. When only the moon rages. And the lovers lie abed. With all their griefs in their arms, I labour by singing light. Not for ambition or bread. Or the strut and trade of charms. On the ivory stages. But for the common wages. Of their most secret heart. Not for the proud man apart. From the raging moon I write. On these spindrift pages. Nor for the towering dead. With their nightingales and psalms. But for the lovers, their arms. Round the... Dylan Thomas

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