When you stop growing you start dying.
William S. BurroughsDeath is not the end death can never be the end. Death is the road. Life is the traveller. The Soul is the Guide
Sri ChinmoyNothing, they say is more certain than death, and nothing more uncertain than the time of dying
Thomas PaineStichwörter: death dying certain uncertain
Right, well, he'd been sick for a while and his nurse said to him, 'You seem to be feeling better this morning,' and Isben looked at her and said, 'On the contrary,' and then he died.
John GreenStichwörter: last-words death dying green pudge alaska john looking miles halter henrik-isben
He wanted to die. He prayed for it. Through the roar in his ears, he begged for it.
V.S. CarnesStichwörter: romance death dying
...why can't I stop all the moving and look out over the vast arrangements and find by the contours and colors and qualities of light where my father is, not to solve anything but just simply even to see it again one last time, before what, before it ends, before it stops. But it doesn't stop; it simply ends. It is a final pattern scattered without so much as a pause at the end, at the end of what, at the end of this.
Paul HardingStichwörter: life death dying father-and-son
There are moments when a rope's end, a pole, the branch of the tree, is life itself, and it is a frightful thing to see a living being lose his hold upon it, and fall like a ripe fruit.
Victor HugoStichwörter: dying life-and-death last-hope
Piece by piece, my mother is being stolen from me.
Dorothy AllisonStichwörter: mother dying parent-aging
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Stichwörter: death dying poems father
It's taken years for me to understand that dying doesn't end the story; it transforms it. Edits, rewrites, the blur, aand epiphany of one-way dialogue. Most of us wander in and out of one another's lives until not death, but distance, does us part-- time and space and heart's weariness are the blander executioners or human connection.
Gail CaldwellStichwörter: dying
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