Welcome to our collection of Mortality quotes! Mortality is a topic that has fascinated and intrigued humans for centuries. It is a universal experience that touches everyone's lives and serves as a reminder of our limited time on this earth. Whether we contemplate our own mortality or grapple with the loss of loved ones, it is an inevitable part of the human condition.
In this category, you will find a compilation of quotes that explore the profound aspects of mortality. These quotes offer insight, reflection, and thought-provoking perspectives on the nature of life's impermanence. They encourage us to ponder the meaning of our existence, confront our fears, and appreciate the preciousness of every moment we have.
From the philosophical musings of ancient philosophers to the poignant words of modern writers and thinkers, these quotes capture the complex emotions and thoughts associated with mortality. They remind us to make the most of our time, find solace in the transient nature of life, and embrace the legacy we leave behind.
Take the time to explore these quotes, and allow them to inspire you to contemplate mortality from different angles. Whether you seek comfort, wisdom, or inspiration, we hope these words will resonate with you and provide a deeper understanding of our shared mortality.
You have wakened not out of sleep, but into a prior dream, and that dream lies within another, and so on, to infinity, which is the number of grains of sand. The path that you are to take is endless, and you will die before you have truly awakened.
In a sense the world dies every time a writer dies, because, if he is any good, he has been a wet nurse to humanity during his entire existence and has held earth close around him, like the little obstetrical toad that goes about with a cluster of eggs attached to his legs.
Not a single star will be left in the night. The night will not be left. I will die and, with me, the weight of the intolerable universe. I shall erase the pyramids, the medallions, the continents and faces. I shall erase the accumulated past. I shall make dust of history, dust of dust. Now I am looking on the final sunset. I am hearing the last bird. I bequeath nothingness to no one.
The subtlest change in New York is something people don't speak much about but that is in everyone's mind. The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York now: in the sound of jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest edition. (Written in 1949, 22 years before the World Trade Center was completed.)
What will die with me the day I die? What pathetic or frail image will be lost to the world? The voice of Macedonio Fernandez, the image of a bay horse in a vacant lot on the corner of Sarrano and Charcas, a bar of sulfur in the drawer of a mahogany desk?