Noah Baumbach Quotes

I've a great fancy to see my own funeral afore I die.

Everybody loves you when you're six foot in the ground.

They say such nice things about people at their funerals that it makes me sad that I'm going to miss mine by just a few days.

I'm always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I'm listening to it.

It's funny the way most people love the dead. Once you are dead, you are made for life.

The elegy does the work of mourning; it allows us to experience mortality. It turns loss into remembrance, and it delivers an inheritance.

Death is not my best subject.

Glory paid to our ashes comes too late.

Now you may write the eulogy for my funeral.

The dead are never far from us. They're in our hearts and on our minds and in the end all that separates us from them is a single breath, one final puff of air.

How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind?

The dead have need of fairy tales too.

The grave and the image are equally links with the irrecoverable and symbols for the unimaginable.

People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad.

In our memories, there is a graveyard where we bury our dead. They all lie there together, the loved ones and the ones we hated, friends and foes and kin, with no distinction among them. We have to mourn every one of them, because our memories have made them as much a part of us as our bones or our skin. If we don't, we've no right to remember anything at all.

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?

There are three deaths. The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.

Obituaries were among my favorite to write because they have elements no other news stories have - a story from start to finish with a proper conclusion.

Death is an awful thing. I don't believe in it myself.

I ought not to speak about the dead because the dead are all over the place.

Mourn for me rather as living than as dead.

I admit that death is not just about you, it's also about the people who love you.

Today we bury his remains in the earth as a seed of immortality. Our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude.

Just because someone's dead doesn't mean it's over. My grandfather died more than 25 years ago, but I still think of him a lot and smell his smell.

To the solemn graves, near a lonely cemetery, my heart like a muffled drum is beating funeral marches.