Saint Augustine Quotes

Death is something to savour, and I hope to savour mine.

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

It takes the whole of life to learn how to live, and - even more surprising - it takes the whole of life to learn how to die.

I don't want to die of some disease I want to die of death

The end of a life is always vivifying.

Death, thou shalt die.

While life could be evaded, death could not.

If Death is your father, you don't ever have to worry about what part of his body the disease will strike next. If Death is your lover, you don't have to be afraid that he will ever leave you.

The living all find death unpleasant; men mourn over it. And yet, what is death, but the unbending of the bow and its return to its case?

Well, so it isn't time yet to die, is it?

The long habit of living indisposeth us for dying.

Death is very, very terminal.

A man begins dying at the moment of his birth. Most People live in denial of Death's patient courtship until, late in life and deep in sickness, they become aware of him sitting bedside.

Before a man dies, hold back and call him not happy but lucky.

Death comes along like a gas bill one can't pay.

Old man! 'Tis not difficult to die.

Death hath so many doors to let out life.

Thus, I always began by assuming the worst; my appeal was dismissed. That meant, of course, I was to die. Sooner than others, obviously. 'But,' I reminded myself, 'it's common knowledge that life isn't worth living, anyhow.' And, on a wide view, I could see that it makes little difference whether one dies at the age of thirty or threescore and ten-- since, in either case, other men will continue living, the world will go on as before. Also, whether I died now or forty years hence, this business of dying had to be got through, inevitably.

They, then, who are destined to die, need not be careful to inquire what death they are to die, but into what place death will usher them.

The romance of life begins and ends with two blank pages. Age and extreme old age.

The hospital is the antechamber to the tomb

To my ninth decade I have totter'd on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.

He will live ill who does not know how to die well.

What is there astonishing in the death of a mortal? But we are grieved at his dying before his time. Are we sure that this was not his time? We do not know how to pick and choose what is good for our souls, or how to fix the limits of the life of man.