I think dying is the ultimate high.
If the rest of the world likes Americans only when we're dying, the rest of the world can go to hell.
Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over. . . Death is not anything. . . death is not. . . It's the absence of presence, nothing more. . . the endless time of never coming back. . . a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes not sound.
I have my own dying empire to contend with, and I do not wish for any other.
It's like the panda, they say that's dying out. But what do they do? When you see them they're just sitting in the jungle eating.
The beer and the wurst were wonderful, but I was dying to be back in the South, where the livin' was easy, where the fish were jumpin', where the cotton grew high.
Pretty much everybody knows there are not enough organs for all of those patients who need to get transplants, and what happens is, is that organs are actually directed in liver transplantation to those patients who are the sickest. So the patients who have the greatest chance of dying in the next three months or so are the ones who get the priority for the liver transplant.
Be honest: Are you surprised that I didn't realize sooner? Are you surprised that it took me so long to even think the word -- death? Dying? Dead? Do you think I was being stupid? Naive? Try not to judge. Remember that we're the same, you and me. I thought I would live forever too.
Sometimes I just want to tell a story regardless of whether it fits what the show is saying. I've been in a lot of writing rooms where somebody says an idea and everyone's dying, like laughing so they're delirious. It's like a black hole in a good way, everything starts to fall into it, you know what I mean.
Patriotism is not dying for one's country, it is living for one's country. And for humanity. Perhaps that is not as romantic, but it's better.
As a species, we're always seeking out authenticity. We're dying for authenticity. We smell it immediately, and we also smell even the slightest riff of somebody who's not completely true to who they are. We have that ability because, as a species, we have organized around stories. We tell them and we subscribe to them.
Shame is the dying embers of virtue.
You haven't lost anything when you know were it is. Death can hide but not divide.
It is the dread of something happening, something unknown and dreadful, that makes us do anything to keep the flicker of talk from dying out.
This house protected by an armed citizen. There is absolutely nothing here worth dying for.
Before dying, my last wish will be to see MS Dhoni's World Cup Winning Six.
Who would prefer peace to the glory of hunger and thirst, of wading through mud, and dying in the service of one's country?
The Talmud tells a story about a great Rabbi who is dying, he has become a goses, but he cannot die because outside all his students are praying for him to live and this is distracting to his soul. His maidservant climbs to the roof of the hut where the Rabbi is dying and hurls a clay vessel to the ground. The sound diverts the students, who stop praying. In that moment, the Rabbi dies and his soul goes to heaven. The servant, too, the Talmud says, is guaranteed her place in the world to come.
Molecules are moving. Universes are colliding. Generations are being born and dying simultaneously, throughout eternity. As one of our great American poets, Walt Whitman, once said: "I contain multitudes. "
Death is the final wake-up call.