Toute fin de vie quelconque s'apparente plus ou moins au rangement; on n'a plus envie de se lancer dans un projet neuf, on se contente d'expédier les affaires courantes. Toute chose que l'on n'a jamais faite, fût-elle aussi anodine que préparer une mayonnaise ou disputer une partie d'échecs, devient peu à peu inaccessible, le désir de toute nouvelle expérience comme de toute nouvelle sensation disparaît absolument. (La possibilité d'une île, Daniel 1,23)
Michel HouellebecqWorry is yet another side effect of dying.
John GreenMots clés dying disability true-story liked
I firmly disbelieve in death. A spirit never dies. Where it wanders when it leaves the flesh, is a cognitive proposition.
Kellie ElmoreMots clés life philosophy god spiritual death religion heaven living hell spirituality moments dying
How mighty you are as death comes upon you and your color fades. Yet from life and lush to bold array, screaming into the night.
Kellie ElmoreMots clés life inspirational philosophy death winter trees spring fall dying
My body kills me, so I kill it.
Dorotheus the ThebanMots clés death spirituality christian theology dying orthodoxy monastic desert-father holy-father
Lew had never seen a dead man before. He just stood there, and looked and looked. Then he went a step closer, and looked some more. 'So that's what it's like!' he murmured inaudibly. Finally Lew reached out slowly and touched him on the face, and cringed as he met the clammy feel of it, pulled his hand back and whipped it down, as though to get something off it.
The flesh was still warm and Lew knew suddenly he had no time alibi.
He threw something over that face and that got rid of the awful feeling of being watched by something from the other world. After that Lew wasn't afraid to go near him; he just looked like a bundle of old clothes. The dead man was on his side, and Lew fiddled with the knife-hilt, trying to get it out. It was caught fast, so he let it alone after grabbing it with his fingers from a couple of different directions.
Next he went through his pockets, thinking he'd be helping to identify him.
The man was Luther Kemp, forty-two, and he lived on 79th Street. But none of that was really true any more, Lew thought, mystified; he'd left it all behind. His clothes and his home and his name and his body and the show he'd paid to see were here. But where the hell had he gone to, anyway? Again that weird feeling came over Lew momentarily, but he brushed it aside. It was just that one of the commonest things in life - death - was still strange to him. But after strangeness comes familiarity, after familiarity, contempt. ("Dusk To Dawn")
When I came out into the outside room again, I saw her shoe still lying there, where it had come off in the course of our brief wrestle. It looked so pathetic there by itself without an owner, it looked so lonely, it looked so empty. Something made me pick it up arid take it in to her. Like when someone's going away, you help them on with their coat, or their jackboots, or whatever it is they need for going away.
I didn't try to put it back on her, I just set it down there beside her close at hand. You're going to need this, I said to her in my mind. You're starting on a long walk. You're going to keep walking from now on, looking for your home.
I stopped and wondered for a minute if that was what happened to all of us when we crossed over. Just keep walking, keep on walking, with no ahead and no in-back-of; tramps, vagrants in eternity. With our last hope and horizon - death - already taken away.
In the Middle Ages they had lurid colors, a bright red hell, an azure heaven shot with gold stars. They knew where they were, at least. They could tell the difference. We, in the Twentieth, we just have the long walk, the long walk through the wispy backward-stringing mists of eternity, from nowhere to nowhere, never getting there, until you're so tired you almost wish you were alive again. ("Life Is Weird Sometimes" - first chapter of unpublished novel THE LOSER)
Mots clés death heaven afterlife dying 20th-century after-life after-death twentieth-century limbo
Its hard to die. Harder to live
Dan SimmonsMadoka: Won't anyone notice that Mami-san is dead?
Homura: Mami Tomoe's only relatives are distant relations. It will be quite some time before anyone files a missing persons report. When one dies on that side of the wards, not even a body is left behind. She'll wind up forever a "missing person"... That is what happens to magical girls in the end.
Madoka: ...That's too cruel! Mami-san has been fighting all alone for a long time for everyone's sake! For no one to even notice that she's gone... That's just too lonely a fate...
Homura: It is just that kind of contract that gives us the power in the first place. It isn't for anyone else's sake. We fight on for the sake of our own prayer. So for no one to notice... for the world to forget us... That is just something we have to accept.
Mots clés death fight loneliness dead alone forget fighting sacrifice lonely dying forgotten missing cruel sacrifices missing-persons fighting-battles cruel-lesson fighting-spirit
Death loves death, not life. Dying people love to know that others die with them; it is a comfort to learn you are not alone in the kiln, in the grave.
Ray BradburyMots clés love death dying comfort
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