27quotes

Quotes about death-and-sickness

Death and sickness are profound aspects of the human experience that touch every life, often bringing with them a mix of fear, reflection, and transformation. This tag represents the inevitable journey through life's most challenging moments, where the fragility of existence becomes starkly apparent. People are drawn to quotes about death and sickness because they offer solace, understanding, and a sense of shared humanity. In times of illness or loss, words have the power to comfort, providing a beacon of hope and a reminder that others have walked similar paths. These quotes can also inspire resilience, encouraging individuals to find strength in adversity and to cherish the fleeting beauty of life. By exploring the depths of sorrow and the reality of mortality, these reflections can lead to profound personal growth and a deeper appreciation for the moments we have. Whether seeking comfort, understanding, or inspiration, quotes about death and sickness resonate deeply, offering a timeless connection to the universal human condition.

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Sometimes I think it's recklessness but at other times the coincidence of it seems almost supernatural because here in the midst of success comes death
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Part of us did die. Literally - that tissue on your face, the part they removed. It died. And you can't recover from any kind of death without mourning it.
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He hated hospitals, hated them. The stench of Domestos and death seemed to linger in his nostrils and on his clothes for weeks, as if to remind him of something bad. It was even rare to find a tasty nurse these days. Most of the ones he'd seen this afternoon had been as ugly as sin.
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Nature had found the perfect place to hide the yellow fever virus. It seeded itself and grew in the blood, blooming yellow and running red.
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When you loose someone untimely; all left is never ending guilt, fear, and pain.
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Y luego el patecal ése, que no te pudo salvar con sus medicinas, aunque tú ni las necesitabas, pues de que te llaman ya ni quien te detenga.
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once ruffle-skirted vanity table where I primped at thirteen, opening drawers to a private chaos of eyeshadows lavender teal sky-blue, swarms of hair pins pony tail fasteners, stashes of powders, colonies of tiny lipsticks (p.39)
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People can act so nice, bringing you food and all, but in the end they are nothing but buzzards. Waiting to pick your bones.
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