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Life is not fair. It is just fairer than death, that is all.

I feel like I do not watch that many shows with death.

Consciousness after death demonstrates the possibility of consciousness operating independently of the body.

Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can not help but cry. I mean I do love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff.

When applied to politics and taken to its extreme, kitsch is the mask of death. Fascism was all aesthetics. There was no core principle to it. There was no truth to it.

All interest in disease and death is only another expression of interest in life.

I love this pedal to death. The only way you could keep me from playing one is by chopping off my legs!

Even when you are making a movie about life, death is a presence, and I guess it is part of my dramatic viewpoint. I am not sure why exactly. Maybe I am drawn to it as a story element.

Once a disease has entered the body, all parts which are healthy must fight it: not one alone, but all. Because a disease might mean their common death. Nature knows this and Nature attacks the disease with whatever help she can muster.

People can undergo a sudden change of thinking and loyalties under threat of death or intense social pressure and isolation from friends and family.

It is not the normal way to look at things but I experienced death at a really young age and because of that it is been part of my mental landscape that death is really very possible.

I made a supreme effort not to do that thing that parents do, which is to bore people without children to death by going on and on about how funny their children are, so there is none of that hopefully.

Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you are scared to death.

Death, the final, triumphant lover.

I believe that people would be alive today if there were a death penalty.

For three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow but phone calls taper off.

My brother was a great favorite with everybody, and his death cast a gloom upon the whole neighborhood.

So for twelve miles I rode with Sherman, and we became fast friends. He asked me all manner of questions on the way, and I found that he knew my father well, and remembered his tragic death in Salt Creek Valley.

Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death's perfect punctuation mark is a smile.

Life can not defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer's lover until death.