AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO STARVE IN YOUR LAP AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO BURN IN YOUR BED AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO DROWN IN YOUR HEAT AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO BE POISONED BY YOUR BLOOD AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO MELT AWAY FROM YOUR KISS AND THEN WHEN I AM DEAD BURY ME CLOSE TO YOUR HEART
He knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort's feet... he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible...
WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO STRANGLE MYSELF IN YOUR BLACK HAIR AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO SUFFOCATE BETWEEN YOUR SWEET BREASTS AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO BE BLINDED BY YOUR BROWN EYES AND WHEN I HAVE TO DIE THEN I WANT TO CUT MY VEINS ON YOUR LIPS I HAVE NOT YET LEARNED ENOUGH MY HANDS IN CHAINS THE BRAIN- A HOLE IN THE WALL
We are not going to die." Butters stared up at me, pale, his eyes terrified. "We're not?" "No. And do you know why?" He shook his head. "Because Thomas is too pretty to die. And because I'm too stubborn to die." I hauled on the shirt even harder. "And most of all because tomorrow is Oktoberfest, Butters, and polka will never die.
Right now he was nothing but a physically hurt man who had been through hell and back, clinging to his promise. 'We be... together. More than just... few... hours. Wanna die... with you. Not... alone.' Fought to stay awake, needed to spend every second with Vadim while he could. Vadim kissed that hand again, looked up. 'We won't die. We'll never die. I promise. He'd promise anything, meant it, would die defending this man, would live and die and suffer for him.
[... ] dass die Erde eher wie eine Me¼llhalde ist, die verschiedenen Zeiten fallen im Dunkeln, den Mund mit Erde gefe¼llt, e¼bereinander her, die eine begattet die andre, ohne fruchtbar zu sein, und der Fortschritt besteht immer wieder nur darin, dass die, die auf dieser Erde herumgehen, von alldem nichts wissen.
Like: 'Don't walk out there with one hand in your pocket unless there's somethin' in there you're going to bring out.' You gotta commit. You've gotta go out there and improvise and you've gotta be completely unafraid to die. You've got to be able to take a chance to die. And you have to die lots. You have to die all the time.
Death can come at any moment. You could die this afternoon; you could die tomorrow morning; you could die on your way to work; you could die in your sleep. Most of us try to avoid the sense that death can come at any time, but its timing is unknown to us. Can we live each day as if it were our last? Can we relate to one another as if there were no tomorrow?
I don't want to die in pain or in an undignified way, I don't want any of the people I love to die in, die painfully. But I'm aware of the fact that they may die before I do and I have to part with them and take the loss. The hardest thing of love is to let go. But I think I can get let go of almost anybody.
When you die, you want to die a beautiful death. But what makes for a beautiful death is not always clear. To die without suffering, to die without causing trouble to others, to die leaving behind a beautiful corpse, to die looking good - it's not clear what is meant by a beautiful death. Does a beautiful death refer to the way you die or the condition of your corpse after death? This distinction is not clear. And when you start to stretch the image of death to the method of how to dispose of your corpse as befitting your image of death, everything grows completely out of hand.
The rest of my days I'm going to spend on the sea. And when I die, I'm going to die on the sea. You know what I shall die of? I shall die of eating an unwashed grape. One day out on the ocean I will die--with my hand in the hand of some nice looking ship's doctor, a very young one with a small blond moustache and a big silver watch. "Poor lady," they'll say, "The quinine did her no good. That unwashed grape has transported her soul to heaven.
The rest of my days I'm going to spend on the sea. And when I die, I'm going to die on the sea. You know what I shall die of? I shall die of eating an unwashed grape. One day out on the ocean I will die-with my hand in the hand of some nice looking ship's doctor, a very young one with a small blond moustache and a big silver watch. "Poor lady, " they'll say, "The quinine did her no good. That unwashed grape has transported her soul to heaven.
I was going to die. I was going to die, right now, right here, before I even had a chance to thoroughly apologize to anyone for what I'd done... before I had a chance to forgive myself. I wasn't even going to leave with a bang, one final act of dignity or at least the thought that I still belonged somewhere; I would die without even the simple acceptance that I'd done everything I could. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I didn't want to die crying.
Rock & Roll is so great, people should start dying for it. You don't understand. The music gave you back the beat so you could dream. A whole generation running with a Fender bass...The people just have to die for the music. People are dying for everything else, so why not the music? Die for it. Isn't it pretty? Wouldn't you die for something pretty?Perhaps I should die. After all, all the great blues singers did die. But life is getting better now.I don't want to die. Do I? - Lou Reed (1965-1968)
When a plane crashes and some die while others live, a skeptic calls into question God's moral character, saying that he has chosen some to live and others to die on a whim; yet you say it is your moral right to choose whether the child within you should live or die. Does that not sound odd to you? When God decides who should live or die, he is immoral. When you decide who should live or die, it's your moral right.
There's only one rule: The guy who trains the hardest, the most, wins. Period. Because you won't die. Even though you feel like you'll die, you don't actually die. Like when you're training, you can always do one more. Always. As tired as you might think you are, you can always, always do one more.
Machtgier, Geltungsdrang und Habsucht', sagte Maurice Micklewhite, 'sind die Ge¶tter der neuen Zeit. Die Menschen huldigen den Dingen. Sie verehren die Ge¶tter der Zivilisation. Sie verkaufen ihre Seelen an die dunklen Tre¤ume von Reichtum und Macht. Die alten Ge¶tter nannten Tugenden ihr Eigen. Mitgefe¼hl. Warmherzigkeit. Toleranz. Doch glaubt niemand mehr an die alten Ge¶tter, die den Menschen einst gezeigt haben, was Menschsein bedeutet.
Live Free or Die Hard may work better for an audience that doesn't know much about the series is than it will for Die Hard die hards, who will be wondering who that impersonator is and what he did with the real John McClane. The original Die Hard came out of nowhere to blitz the 1988 summer box office. The fourth installment arrives with a weight of expectations that Atlas would have trouble shouldering and, when the dust settles in September, it's unlikely that Live Free or Die Hard will be one of this year's big success stories.
I thought, "I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There's no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it's sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves""it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin.