Corliss Lamont Quotes

Death, like birth, is a secret of Nature.

Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns.

It is natural to die as to be born.

Among all the vicissitudes of life, which vary in each individual's experience, there is one event which sooner or later comes to everyone - Death!

Life is a predicament which precedes death.

Why should I ask the wise men: Whence is my beginning? I am busy with the thought: Where will be my end?

If you haven't understood that if you are born you die, you scarcely deserve to be able to be alive.

To live is nothing more than to come here to die, to be what we were before being born, but with apprenticeship, experience, knowledge of cause, and perhaps with will.

We die, because we live.

The fact of having been born is a bad augury for immortality.

We begin to die as soon as we are born, and the end is linked to the beginning.

Certainly people have a lot tougher situations than I've had to deal with. But I will say we are all dying from the moment we are born. This is not just rehearsal.

Death is an absolute marvel.

Birth was the death of him.

All rivers, even the most dazzling, those that catch the sun in their course, all rivers go down to the ocean and drown. And life awaits man as the sea awaits the river.

There are only three events in a man's life; birth, life, and death; he is not conscious of being born, he dies in pain, and he forgets to live.

When you really deep down look at it, we go to bed every night, get up every morning, stay here for 70 or 80 years, and then we die.

Everything that gets born dies.

The world rolls round forever like a mill; it grinds out death and life and good and ill; it has no purpose, heart or mind or will.

I had seen birth and death but had thought they were different.

Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last, last time.

Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.

Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.

It is only in the light of the inescapable fact of death that a person can adequately engage and enter upon the mysterious fact of life.