Mel Gibson Quotes

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; when man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!

Rhianon, he said, hold my hand, Rhianon. She did not hear him, but stood over his bed and fixed him with an unbroken sorrow. Hold my hand, he said, and then: why are your putting the sheet over my face?

So they pass away: friends, kindred, the dearest-loved, grown people, aged, infants. As we go on the down-hill journey, the mile-stones are grave-stones, and on each more and more names are written; unless haply you live beyond man's common age, when friends have dropped off, and, tottering, and feeble, and unpitied, you reach the terminus alone.

At the age of twenty six I am in the condition of an aged person - all my old friends are gone... & my heart fails when I think by how few ties I hold to the world.

I had assumed that I would age with all my friends growing old around me, dying off very gradually one by one. And here was a plague that cut them off so early.

My personal telephone book is a book of the dead now. I'm so old. Almost all of my friends have died, and I don't have the guts to take their names out of the book.

The common denominator of all my friends is that they're dead.

A lot of people want to die for a lot of reasons.

I want to be alone and work until the day my heads hits the drawing table and I'm dead. Kaput. I feel very much like I want to be with my brother and sister again. They're nowhere. I know they're nowhere and they don't exist, but if nowhere means that's where they are, that's where I want to be.

Widow. The word consumes itself.

Everyone I used to play with has either given up or is dead.

You get to about 65 or 70 and you lose friends and the world does seem to be an endlessly difficult place and tragic place, so it's more and more difficult for me to find the bright lights.

Old age: I fall asleep during the funerals of my friends.

Being over seventy is like being engaged in a war. All our friends are going or gone and we survive amongst the dead and the dying as on a battlefield.

Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.

I think about dying. I've come to realize we all die alone in one way or another.

I can feel myself dying inside.

She died and with her died my last warm feelings for humanity.

I am older than everyone I ever knew. All my dogs are dead. Half a dozen cats, parakeets... all gone.

The town was so dull: one day the tide went out, and it never came back.

I understand the power of sorrow, and I understand how far it can take us from ourselves if we let it.

It's a weird feeling to have outlived virtually everyone you ever worked with.

He had thrown himself away, he had lost interest in everything, and life, falling in with his feelings, had demanded nothing of him. He had lived as an outsider, an idler and onlooker, well liked in his young manhood, alone in his illness and advancing years. Seized with weariness, he sat down on the wall, and the river murmured darkly in his thoughts.

When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?