Aldous Huxley Quotes

You must pardon me, gentlemen, for being a most unconscionable time a-dying.

Corpses are more fit to be thrown out than is dung.

Death was in every sell of his body. He gave off a faint, greenish steam of decay. Lee imagined he would glow in the dark.

The dead look so terribly dead when they're dead.

They couldn't keep Death out, but while she was in she had to act like a lady.

Learn young about hard work and manners - and you'll be through the whole dirty mess and nicely dead again before you know it.

Shoulda sent a thank you note, you little hoe Now Imma wrap your coffin wit a bow

There are about as many ways to be dead as there are to be alive. People linger in different ways, both publicly and privately.

These trees and these old people have one thing in common, they're both going in the ground soon!

I hate to say this, but I'll repeat it: After death, all we know that you do is stink.

Dead things should be buried and not eaten.

A Cambridge lady, hearing of the latest Suicide, said to her friend, turning off TV for tea, "Well, my dear, doesn't it seem a little like going where you haven't been invited?"

We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying and our strength leaves us, and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood, cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.

Speake not of a dead man at the table.

When you attend a funeral, It is sad to think that sooner o' Later those you love will do the same for you. And you may have thought it tragic, Not to mention other adjec- Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do. (But don't you worry.

Wherever it lies, under earth or over earth, the body will always rot.

Death is the least civilized rite of passage.

Normally it is not polite to go into somebody’s room without knocking, but you can make an exception if the person is dead, or pretending to be dead.

He lies below, correct in cypress wood, And entertains the most exclusive worms.

While you are living, part of you has slipped away to the cemetery.

Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead?

Sleeping as quiet as death, side by wrinkled side, toothless, salt and brown, like two old kippers in a box.

The Autumn is old; The sere leaves are flying; He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying;- Old age, begin sighing!