Jasper Fforde Quotes

We are all racing towards death. No matter how many great, intellectual conclusions we draw during our lives, we know they're all only man-made, like God. I begin to wonder where it all leads. What can you do, except do what you can do as best you know how.

I don’t know. We’ll all be dead.

Some old guy once said that the meaning of life is that it ends.

My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.

I believe we all must face the fact of death. It is both gift and curse.

Death threatens our speech with futility because death is not just a biological event - it is a reality we fear may rob our living of any significance.

The last act is bloody, however pleasant all the rest of the play is: a little earth is thrown at last upon our head, and that is the end forever.

Heaven fashioned us of nothing; and we strive to bring ourselves to nothing.

Father Time is the enemy none of us can beat.

When you understand that you will die to-morrow, if not to-day, and nothing will be left, then everything is so unimportant!... So one goes on living, amusing oneself with hunting, with work - anything so as not think of death

The continuous work of our life is to build death.

Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.

Our lives fade behind us before we die.

little sun little moon little dog and a little to eat and a little to love and a little to live for in a little room filled with little mice who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep waiting for a little death in the middle of a little morning in a little city in a little state my little mother dead my little father dead in a little cemetery somewhere. I have only a little time to tell you this: watch out for little death when he comes running but like all the billions of little deaths it will finally mean nothing and everything: all your little tears burning like the dove, wasted.

Everything goes. I am working very hard at not thinking about how everything goes.

The meaning of life is that it stops.

Life is short and we have scarcely begun to live when we are called to die.

All things pass in time. We are far less significant than we imagine ourselves to be. All that we are, all that we have wrought, is but a shadow, no matter how durable it may seem. One day, when the last man has breathed his last breath, the sun will shine, the mountains will stand, the rain will fall, the streams will whisper—and they will not miss him.

I've lived so little that I tend to imagine I'm not going to die; it seems improbable that human existence can be reduced to so little; one imagines, in spite of oneself, that sooner or later something is bound to happen. A big mistake. A life can just as well be both empty and short. The days slip by indifferently, leaving neither trace nor memory; and then all of a sudden they stop.

I had a sense then of how if we truly understood how many of the unimportant things we do will end up outliving us, we'd never be able to go on.

Consider when thou art much vexed or grieved, that man's life is only a moment, and after a short time we are all laid out dead.

That’s what death did, it treated you like a child, like everything you had ever thought and done and cared about was just a child’s game, to be crumpled up and thrown away when it was over. It didn’t matter. Death didn’t respect you. Death thought you were bullshit, and it wanted to make sure you knew it.

Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time?