I could croak with no warning, and the only tragedy anyone would experience would be showing up on the last day of my estate sale simply to discover that all remaining items had copious amounts of dog hair on them.
Getting old and dying alone is my worst fear.
Not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.
Given the chance, i'll die like a baby, on some faraway beach, when the season's over.
Don't you want to take a leap of faith? Or become an old man, filled with regret, waiting to die alone!
I made the remark that I don't avoid people in order to live quietly, but rather in order to be able to die quietly.
When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influences and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror.
I attended the bedside of a friend who was dying in a Dublin hospital. She lived her last hours in a public ward with a television blaring out a football match, all but drowning our final conversation.
Ka thought it strangely depressing that the suicide girls had had to struggle to find a private moment to kill themselves. Even after swallowing their pills, even as they lay quietly dying, they’d had to share their rooms with others.
One's family is the most important thing in life. I look at it this way: One of these days I'll be over in a hospital somewhere with four walls around me. And the only people who'll be with me will be my family.
... to die on a kitchen floor at 7 o'clock in the morning while other people are frying eggs is not so rough unless it happens to you.
Dying in unfamiliar surroundings miles away from home, it cannot possibly be good. There is a great sadness about that I think.
A year after Hemingway died on the front page, Faulkner went off after a binge, as if dying was nobody's business but his own.
To my ninth decade I have totter'd on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.
dying nowadays is more gruesome in many ways, namely, more lonely, mechanical, and dehumanized; at times it is even difficult to determine technically when the time of death has occurred.
Mandarin ducks mate for life and will die of loneliness if separated from their chosen mate.
There is something very unsettling about being with someone when they die. People say it's peaceful. It's not peaceful. It's the most personal thing you can do, is die, and you feel almost like you're invading someone's most personal moment by being there.
I have no intention of uttering my last words on the stage. Room service and a couple of depraved young women will do me quite nicely for an exit.
You know how cats do. They hide to die. Dogs come home.
To die is not to play a part in society; it is the act of a single person. Let us live and laugh among our friends; let us die and sulk among strangers.
I don't want to die. The last thing I want to do is go in a wrestling ring with a bunch of people watching. I'd rather it be somewhere high up on a mountain. I don't need any fans there for that.
If even dying is to be made a social function, then, grant me the favor of sneaking out on tiptoe without disturbing the party.
No one deserves to die alone. No matter who you are, you deserve to have someone by your side. And as a volunteer with hospice, we provide that love, comfort, and respect.
As women glide from their twenties to thirties, Shazzer argues, the balance of power subtly shifts. Even the most outrageous minxes lose their nerve, wrestling with the first twinges of existential angst: fears of dying alone and being found three weeks later half-eaten by an Alsatian.
Why now? Why not? Live or die, a man and a woman need love. There is a need in the race. We need to share. To belong. Perhaps you will die before the year is out. But remember this: to have may be taken from you, to have had never. Far better to have tasted love before dying, than to die alone.
