Richard Bach Quotes

There ain't nothin' to dyin', really. You just get tired. You kind of drift away.

Death is very, very terminal.

Death is just the last scene of the last act.

I know my life is nearing its end and I accept that.

Death can really absorb a person. Lik most people, I would find it pleasant not to have to go, but you just accept that it's more or less inevitable.

All I can say is, death is a part of life.

Let no man fear to die, we love to sleep all, and death is but the sounder sleep.

I have died in so many spectacular ways, and I remember shooting them all, too. I imagine all those deaths will flash in front of me when I'm on my death bed, faced with the real thing.

No one can avoid death; it is inevitable. Therefore, I should create in my mind a kind of willingness and accepting for that event without any fear.

Death is not soft-mouthed, vague-footed, nearby. It is in the hall.

Death. It doesn't have to be boring.

Death, which we are accustomed to consider an evil, really acts for us the friendliest part, and takes away the commonplace of existence.

Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and going. From the word go.

Death may whiten in sun or out of it.

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

Does it hurt?" The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. "Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep.

I know death comes. I've seen too much death, young death.

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

Death. The certain prospect of death could sweeten every life with a precious and fragrant drop of levity- and now you strange apothecary souls have turned it into an ill-tasting drop of poison that makes the whole of life repulsive.

I am dying: it's a beautiful word. Like the long slow sigh of the cello: dying. But the sound of it is the only beautiful thing about it.

So," he asked. "How's death?" "Hard," she said. "It just keeps going.

With death comes honesty.

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.

Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers The buck in the snow . . . Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.