Bela Lugosi Quotes

Why do people want to pretend that death is sleep? It isn't. It isn't.

Death is perfectly safe. (55)

For the living, death is thievery.

What is death, after all? We leave only mortals behind us.

Build then the ship of death, for you must take the longest journey, to oblivion.

I don't fear death, it must be like a long sleep.

"Death," said Akiva. His life was leaving him fast now that he no longer held his wound. His eyes just wanted to drift closed. "I'm ready." "Well, I'm not. I hear it's dull, being dead." She said it lightly, amused, and he peered up at her. Had she just made a joke? She smiled. Smiled. He did, too. Amazed, he felt it happening, as if her smile had triggered a reflex in him. "Dull sounds nice," he said, letting his eyes flutter closed. "Maybe I can catch up on my reading."

Death is the quiet haven of us all.

Death, that final evil, is one of the paths to eternity. Endless life in the conditions of our existence would be a nightmare.

With the dead there is no rivalry, with the dead there is no change.

The people who pretend that dying is rather like strolling into the next room always leave me unconvinced. Death, like birth, must be a tremendous event.

Death is one dream out of another flowing.

The great majority gave no signs one way or the other; like birth, their death was a sleep and a forgetting.

The last to be overcome is death, and the knowledge of life is the knowledge of death.

Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.

But death is not freedom. For a moment, it can look like freedom. But then it's death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

Death is the side of life which is turned away from us.

Death is the ultimate boundary of human matters.

Death either destroys or unhusks us. If it means liberation, better things await us when our burden s gone: if destruction, nothing at all awaits us; blessings and curses are abolished.

Death is the end of every worldly pain.

O Death, what are thou? nurse of dreamless slumbers freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal.

Pity that the only way to paradise is in a hearse.

Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.

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.