Eric Bogosian Quotes

After that I could never pass a dead man without stopping to gaze on his face, stripped by death of that earthly patina which masks the living soul. And I would ask, who were you? Where was your home? Who is mourning for you now?

Passing away" is written on the world and all the world contains.

The body is the one thing you have to say goodbye to. You can hold on to your memories. You can hold on to the spirit. That's part of the package that you love and the part that comforts you.

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

I don't believe in the afterlife, so I do think when somebody passes, it's worthy of note.

Perhaps grief is not about empty, but full. The full breath of life that includes death. The completeness, the cycles, the depth, the richness, the process, the continuity and the treasure of the moment that is gone the second you are aware of it.

The past is buried and I mourn it with greater pain than many among you, because no human power can awaken it when the Crown itself has scattered ashes upon the coffin.

Now you may write the eulogy for my funeral.

When the friends we love the best Lie in their churchyard bed, We must not cry too bitterly Over the happy dead.

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?

Death is an absolute marvel.

The reason so many people turned up at his funeral is that they wanted to make sure he was dead.

I think that nothing teaches you more about life than death and dying.

You can cry about death and very properly so, your own as well as anybody else's. But it's inevitable, so you'd better grapple with it and cope and be aware that not only is it inevitable, but it has always been inevitable, if you see what I mean.

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

I'm always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I'm listening to it.

None of us, in our culture of comfort, know how to prepare ourselves for dying, but that's what we should do every day. Every single day, we die a thousand deaths.

We see death constantly on film.

Alas, how quickly the gratitude owed to the dead flows off, how quick to be proved a deceiver.

For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.

It's very inconvenient because every time I finish, let's say, a chapter of a book, I think I'm going to ring Richard and then realize: Oh, Christ, I've buried him. I buried him last year.

To have died once is enough.

Death is feared as birth is forgotten.

I have never wanted to see anybody die, but there are a few obituary notices I have read with pleasure.

I'm hyper-focused on loss. But I know it's just the impermanence of being here.