Death Quotes — page 73

And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.

No rack can torture me, My soul 's at liberty. Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder oneYou cannot prick with saw, Nor rend with scymitar. Two bodies therefore be;

There is no slavery but ignorance. Liberty is the child of intelligence. The history of man is simply the history of slavery, of injustice and brutality, together with the means by which he has, through the dead and desolate years, slowly …

Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay; And if in death still lovely, lovelier there; Far lovelier! pity swells the tide of love.

Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, How can thine heart be full of the spring? A thousand summers are over and dead. What hast thou found in the spring to follow? What hast thou found in thine heart to sing? What wilt thou do when the …

Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering …

We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.

Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died. In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled! They had no poet, and are dead.

He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled,— The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, Before decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.

People say that there are neither dragons to be killed nor distressed maidens to be rescued nowadays. I do not know, but I think I have dropped across one or two, nor do I feel sure whether the most mortal wounds have been inflicted by the …

Better to die ten thousand deaths, Than wound my honour.

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest.

Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant; Life we have loved, through green leaf and through sere, Though still the less we knew of its intent.

Image of beauty, when I gaze on thee, Trembling I waken to a mystery, How through one door we go to life or death By spirit kindled or the sensual breath.

We lov'd, and we lov'd, as long as we could, Till our love was lov'd out in us both: But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled: 'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

If men and mortal arms ye slight, Know there are gods who watch o'er right.

O may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence; live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self,

Whoso belongs only to his own age, and reverences only its gilt Popinjays or smoot-smeared Mumbojumbos, must needs die with it.

'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.

Have you found your life distasteful? My life did and does smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I save and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I'll complain.

Here closed in death th' attentive eyes That saw the manners in the face.

From the winter's gray despair, From the summer’s golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever.

Nor is there place for Death.

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal!