Dejan Stojanovic Quotes

Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

My mother, Abra, had taught me that all people are made from the same dust. When our days here are gone, all men and women enter the same garden.

It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.

Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.

Death is very mysterious to us. One moment someone is there with us, and the next moment they're not.

Death doesn't frighten me; now I can think peacefully of ending a long life.

Death unites as well as separates; it silences all paltry feeling.

I'm not frightened about death. I don't know why, but I just feel that at a certain moment your switch is switched off, and that's it. And you can't do anything about it.

I just don't get death at all. Yes, it's there. But I don't get it.

Death is with you all the time; you get deeper in it as you move towards it, but it's not unfamiliar to you. It's always been there, so what becomes unfamiliar to you when you pass away from the moment is really life.

Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.

I have thought there was some advantage even in death, by which we mingle with the herd of common men.

From death's perspective, there are no differences between people; there are no presidents or flight attendants, no faiths or nations. There is just the person, always dear.

The living are just the dead on holiday

The charnel ground is that great graveyard in which the complexities of samsara and nirvana lie buried.

I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.

I take it, therefore, to be a fact, that one's existence ends with death. I think it possible to show how this fact can be emotionally acceptable.

The first thing I would like to tell you about death is that there is no bigger lie than death. And yet, death appears to be true. It not only appears to be true but also seems like the cardinal truth of life - it appears as if the whole of life is surrounded by death. Whether we forget about it, or become oblivious to it, everywhere death remains close to us. Death is even closer to us than our own shadow.

I will be dust, but dust in love

I died for beauty but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? "For beauty," I replied. "And I for truth, the two are one; We brethren are," he said. And so, as kinsmen met a night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names.

But death is not freedom. For a moment, it can look like freedom. But then it's death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust.

Death is wonderful because you can't think about it. How are you gonna think about it?

So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

When a man dies he kicks the dust.