People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend.— Jim Morrison
Beautiful Death Of A Friend quotations
A physicist friend of mine once said that in facing death, he drew some consolation from the reflection that he would never again have to look up the word "hermeneutics" in the dictionary.
The song is ended, but the melody lingers on.
A friend of ours said if the same laws were applied to U.
S. Presidents as were applied to the Nazis after WWII, that every single one of them, every last rich white one of them, from Truman on would be hung to death and shot. And this current administration is no exception. They should be hung and tried and shot as war criminals.
On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend's life also, in our own, to the world.
Maybe this is why so many serial killers work in pairs.
It's nice not to feel alone in a world full of victims or enemies. It's no wonder Waltraud Wagner, the Austrian Angel of Death, convinced her friends to kill with her. It just seems natural. You and me against the world.
Religion is the yeast of death cakes.
It is the most awful agent on a vulnerable mind. It's the refuge of alienated and lonely people. It's what people had before television. It yokes people together into an imaginary world. It is just people talking to their imaginary friends, at length. I wouldn't mind, but some of the people are world leaders.
Musalia [Mudavadi] was created by [Daniel Toroitich arap] Moi and given his seat after his father's death since Musalia's was one of Moi's key men and a beneficiary of the grand corruption of the day. I am aware of this but I recognize that I cannot get perfect partners, and truly my friends; there is an election to be won.
We as Bible-believing evangelical Christians are locked in a battle.
This is not a friendly gentleman's discussion. It is a life and death conflict between the spiritual hosts of wickedness and those who claim the name of Christ.
Tell your friend that in his death, a part of you dies and goes with him.
Wherever he goes, you also go. He will not be alone.
I like to remind my friends frequently how short life is.
This is the important message of death: not a day to waste, not a day to quarrel, not a day to brood upon yourself. This is not losing the joy of life; this is gaining the joy of life.
Tears are God's gift to us. Our holy water. They heal us as they flow.
Sir, if you think that I am that kind of a man, you have missed your mark.
I would rather die a thousand deaths than betray a friend or be false to duty.
Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me--'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
For, after all, put it as we may to ourselves, we are all of us from birth to death guests at a table which we did not spread. The sun, the earth, love, friends, our very breath are parts of the banquet.... Shall we think of the day as a chance to come nearer to our Host, and to find out something of Him who has fed us so long?
It's not that I don't appreciate my life sober, but it's like there are two different people battling inside of me. I want to be good, do good, be a worker among workers, a friend among friends. But there's also this part of me that is so dissatisfied with everything, If I'm not living on the verge of death, I feel like I'm not really living.
If Christ Jesus be the periode, the end and the lodging-home at the end of your journey, there is no fear ye go to a friend . . . ye may look death in the face with joy.
Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws
The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.
When Anaxagoras was told of the death of his son, he only said, "I knew he was mortal." So we in all casualties of life should say "I knew my riches were uncertain, that my friend was but a man." Such considerations would soon pacify us, because all our troubles proceed from their being unexpected.
Kurt and I weren't the closest of friends, but I knew him well enough to be devastated by his death. For such a quiet person, he was so excited about having a child.
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
Two weeks before his death, a friend asked him half jokingly if he had discovered any meaning in life. "Yes," he replied, "there is a meaning; at least, for me, there is one thing that matters - to set a chime of words tinkling in the minds of a few fastidious people."
And now the end is near And so I face the final curtain, My friends, I'll say it clear, I'll state my case of which I'm certain. I've lived a life that's full, I've travelled each and evr'y highway And more, much more than this, I did it my way.
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am, and live with shadows tost.
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
There is a strange charm in the thoughts of a good legacy, or the hopes of an estate, which wondrously removes or at least alleviates the sorrow that men would otherwise feel for the death of friends.
Recently a young journalist came to interview me about what I was doing the day war broke out. During the course of the interview I recounted the deaths of my only brother, my husband's only brother, a brother in law and my four best friends. "So," she said, did the war affect you in any way?
Celebrate my death for the good times I've had, For the work that I've done and the friends that I've made. Celebrate my death, of whom it could be said, "She was a working class woman, and a red."
There's one thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die - their silence.
I know I have been portrayed as a general looking for war.
Many other headlines speak of that. That's what people say. But I understand the importance of peace because I saw the horrors of war. That's how I see it. I lost my best friends in battles.. and I had to make decisions of life and death, of others and myself.
There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes its shape, rears up and becomes a place of despair. Then fear and rage run simply--and the thought of Death as a friend. This is the simplest of thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.
The comfort of having a friend may be taken away, but not that of having had one.
Someone told me the delightful story of the crusader who put a chastity belt on his wife and gave the key to his best friend for safekeeping, in case of his death. He had ridden only a few miles away when his friend, riding hard, caught up with him, saying 'You gave me the wrong key!