Till tired, he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
To die: - to sleep: No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it.
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
First our pleasures die - and then Our hopes, and then our fears - and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust - and we die too.
God's finger touched him, and he slept.
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea.
Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
For he who lives more lives than one More deaths than one must die.
There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.
To eat bread without hope is still slowly to starve to death.
Biography is one of the new terrors of death.
If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner and wink your eye at some homely girl.
'Tis very certain the desire of life prolongs it.
I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.
To live without risk for me would be tantamount to death.
Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.
and he suddenly knew that if she killed herself, he would die. Maybe not immediately, maybe not with the same blinding rush of pain, but it would happen. You couldn't live for very long without a heart.
I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn't that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they'll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don't know. She probably didn't even know I was there. But I'll always love her. All my life.
Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. Love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves it's own mark. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.