Oh the stellar sensation, Oh the cosmic elevation; Time is sober in death, For the wine of love; Is the blue life of the earth.
I can't even make up a rhyme about an umbrella, let alone death and life and eternal peace.
Those were strange days, now that I look back at them. In the midst of life, everything revolved around death.
Those with less curiosity or ambition just mumble that God works in mysterious ways. I intend to catch him in the act.
You start to die the moment you are born. The whole of life is cutting through the pack with death. So take it easy.
The kind of death you should mourn over is the one that happen when you abort your potentials prematurely! Life without purpose is a tragedy!
Death seemed to lose its terrors and to borrow a grace and dignity in sublime keeping with the life that was ebbing away.
Humans are about to grasp basic substances of all creations. When that moment comes, life or death are no longer matters.
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.
I am not ready to die, But I am learning to trust death As I have trusted life. I am moving Toward a new freedom
Life was still sprouting in him—over the sharp rocks and right on the nose of a cliff, he was yet far from death.
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
Many religions have meditations on death to let it penetrate our thick skulls that life doesn’t last forever.
I think one who thrives on death may be defeated by life. Elswyth, from A Precarious Journey Into Magic
The universe requires balance. Nothing, nothing, can exist without it. There is no life, no light, without death, without darkness. There is no memory… without emptiness.
I’ll love you with all my heart, in every life, through every death. I will not be bound by anything but my love for you.
You live on - in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here...Death ends life, not a relationship.
I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.
Time is a cruel thief to rob us of our former selves. We lose as much to life as we do to death.
Who prays at help in the Illusion of his Life does not understand that his only aid is death
I’ll be your Dostoevsky, if you’ll be my Tolstoy. Our life together will be so full of despair that death will be like a gulag full of joy.
