death-and-dying

It was during this terrible night that the three wounded died, and the jeeps froze solid.

Two weeks. Everything you love, own, and cherish, can be gone, liquidated, and lost forever in two weeks. Give or take a day.

One's ribs shouldn't be prison bars.

I went to a foot specialist recently and she said:"You've broken a bone, it's healed funny.""What can you do?""Not much."She strapped me up though and that's the reason my foot is hurting, because the strapping gave me cramp.When I'm about to die I'm going to head ti a swamp so I topple in when the time comes. In 50,000 years when they dig me up, pretty well preserved, the scientists will have to work out what sort of life I led from my bone structure, teeth and whatnot. Maybe I'll be clutching a Felt record or something to give them a clue. They'll look at my foot and say: "This man broke a bone and it's healed funny." And they'll look at the Felt record, analysing the grooves with a Groove Analyser and they'll say: "He was obviously in an indie band and one day the pressure got too much, and he booted a wall." And they wouldn't be far from the truth, those crazy scientists.

But why was the room suddenly becoming so dark? It was the middle of the afternoon. With a supreme effort Giuseppe Corte, who felt himself paralyzed with a strange lethargy, looked at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. It was 3:30. He turned his head in the other direction and saw that the shutters, in obedience to some mysterious command, were closing slowly, blocking the passage of light.

Death is a misery.

This world rubs me raw, scours me smooth like an SOS pad put to a grease-caked skillet. And pain: it stabs and scrapes and pulls me back to earth, my final B&B, that worm-spun cot of cool black sod.

Ah yes, a great victory, this 'sport'. I am sure El Toro appreciates the applause Jumping in the Puddles of Life

Everything I see reminds me that in a few days I shall no longer see it... It's horrible... I shall see nothing more... nothing of what exists... the smallest objects that we use... glasses... plates... beds where people sleep so comfortably... carriages. It's so lovely, going out in a carriage, in the evening... How much I enjoyed all that!

A man dies and his skin loses heat like the sand on a summer evening. It makes you feel like warming him up.

We cry for ourselves, don't we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring.

But he drank a lot. When love dies, he told me, there are no survivors.

One Must Choose Among Both Parties Either To Be A Wise Man That Die To Live In Righteousness And Blissfulness For Eternity Or Be A Foolish Man That Lives To Die For Vanity.

...Death," she said, as her hand dropped away, " is how you know you were alive in the first place.

We die well when we die with purpose fulfilled".~R. Alan Woods [2012]

Biology includes the study of the human death which began when you took your first breath

Nature had found the perfect place to hide the yellow fever virus. It seeded itself and grew in the blood, blooming yellow and running red.

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear?