William Shakespeare Quotes

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.... [W]hat can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to the ground?... [N]othing can we call our own, but death... [L]et us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings: - How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd.

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered; for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court... and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!

Death makes sad stories of us all.

Rafael, the Rat King, stared at the carnage with black-button eyes. "She is dead." "Ding dong, the witch is dead.

Why do you weep? Did you think I was immortal?

I remember burying a girl fourteen years of age who had died with a ruptured appendix... I buried a good many people that I knew, some of whom I loved.

I've watched a lot of my friends die, everyone from John Belushi, River Phoenix to Chris Farley. It just keeps going on and on.

At a certain age, death becomes familiar to you-or a loss becomes familiar-the tragedies that are more commonplace in life.

Death has a tendency to encourage a depressing view of war.

What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?

The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.

I don't mourn the dead. I mourn the living.

Most songs are somewhere between love and death, and mine are no exception.

It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.

For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.

I had a twin, and he didn't make it.

Every so often, we all gaze into the abyss. It's a depressing fact of life that eventually the clock expires; eventually the sand in the hourglass runs out. It's the leaving behind of everything that matters to us that hurts the most.

Death is an art, you know.

It's the continuation of everyone's childhood to see these young children who grow up full of life, full of intelligence, full of a sense of wonder. And within an instant they're gone from this world. It's terrible.

Death remains about the one certain fact in the lives of each one of us, and there will be suffering, sorrow, and sadness next week as there was last week.

Death is always and under all circumstances a tragedy, for if it is not, then it means that life itself has become one.

Kings scarcely recognize themselves as mortals, scarcely understand that which pertains to man, except on the day they are made king or on the day they die. On the former day they feign humility and gentleness, in the hope of capturing the voice of the people. On the latter, having death before their eyes, they confess what is a fact, namely that they are wretchedly mortal.

My sister died in Brooklyn.