Simone Weil Quotes

The dead are merely the countrymen of my future.

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

So when I'm killed, don't wait for me, Walking the dim corridor; In Heaven or Hell, don't wait for me, Or you must wait for evermore. You'll find me buried, living-dead In these verses that you've read.

Death is the ultimate boundary of human matters.

Of all the gods, Death only craves not gifts: Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed By hymns of praise. From him alone of all The powers of heaven Persuasion holds aloof.

Death! It is rest to the aged, it is oblivion to the atheist, it is immortality to the poet!

Why do people want to pretend that death is sleep? It isn't. It isn't.

Death, that final evil, is one of the paths to eternity. Endless life in the conditions of our existence would be a nightmare.

The mystery of death, the riddle of how you could speak to someone and see them every day and then never again, was so impossible to fathom that of course we kept trying to figure it out, even when we were unconscious.

The last to be overcome is death, and the knowledge of life is the knowledge of death.

Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.

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

Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death has come, we are not.

Go and try to disprove death. Death will disprove you, and that's all!

I don't fear death, it must be like a long sleep.

Death either destroys or unhusks us. If it means liberation, better things await us when our burden s gone: if destruction, nothing at all awaits us; blessings and curses are abolished.

How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.

death - a passage outside the range of imagination, but within the range of experience.

Death is the end of every worldly pain.

O Death, what are thou? nurse of dreamless slumbers freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal.

Death promises nothing--not even oblivion.

The grave Is but the threshold of eternity.

There is a two-fold solemnity which belongs to the dying hour-it is the winding up of life, and it is the commencement of eternity.

After death there is nothing.