John Lurie Quotes

Hell no. When I die I want to be sick.

In Khmer we have a saying that when one is both quite sick and old there remains only one thing, that you die.

I have been unexpectedly confronted with my own mortality as I was told that I had cancer.

I think I definitely got scared by the second or third time a doctor told me I was dying.

That's the worst health condition you can have, not being alive.

A person seldom falls sick but the bystanders are animated with a faint hope that he will die.

It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

You're going to die sooner.

"I'm going over the valley." (Dying from throat cancer, his doctor found him wandering around his room, asked him where was he going?)

The hospital is the antechamber to the tomb

Don't get sick, and if you do get sick, die quickly.

People start to act very unusually when they find out that they're dying, that they don't have that many years left.

Of course, it's no fun getting old and getting sick and dying; we all know that's coming, and it's a bore.

My mom had a heart attack, and it came out of nowhere - she was 54. My dad had leukemia for about 3 months. He was 80 when he passed. My dad had me later in life, and so he had leukemia and was alive for about 3 months between diagnosis and passing away.

I would like to avoid dying if possible. I do like living! The worst, I think for me, though, would be a really bedridden death.

'Incurable' is a tough word. So is 'terminal.'

When I heard 'incurable'... incurable is a tough word.

What is time, really? When you are diagnosed with a terminal disease like cancer or leukemia, your perception of time changes.

When doctors tell you that you have three weeks to live, you try to live a lifetime of moments in three weeks. But you say, 'To hell with three weeks.'

My consultant keeps telling me sudden death could come at any moment.

We all live in this little bubble that we just expect to live forever and I think those of us that have been with people battling cancer, you realise, actually, this surrounds us everywhere we go.

Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn't know when. After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn't know when. But now I knew it acutely.

Time for me is double-edged: every day brings me further from the low of my last cancer relapse, but every day also brings me closer to the next cancer recurrence - and eventually, death. Perhaps later than I think, but certainly sooner than I desire.

You ask particularly after my health. I suppose that I have not many months to live; but, of course, I know nothing about it. I may add that I am enjoying existence as much as ever, and regret nothing.

The sign of death is weakness.