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“Your life was a hypothesis. Those who die old are made of the past. Thinking of them, one thinks of what they have done. Thinking of you, one thinks of what you could have become. You were, and you will remain, made up of possibilities.”
― Édouard Levé, Suicide

“Live life to it's fullest or it may seem like you died young.”
― James Wattersmith

“Many of them, like him, would never grow old enough to understand that you only go from one hardship to another. And that the best we can hope from life is that it is a wonderful depression.”
― Heather O'Neill, The Lonely Hearts Hotel

“Do not weep for those who have found Death's embrace early, for they weep for us that linger on in this mortal world of pain.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Dying is like the ocean, sometimes the tide comes in gently with soft, delicate waves quietly working in the background. Other days, the waves violently crash into explosions, demanding to be noticed but regardless of how it chooses to do its job, the tide will always come in.”
― Sarah Riad, The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

“What matters most, is not how my end happens, or if it happens now. What I care about in this instant, is that she knows how much I love her—that I lived long enough to have her love me back.”
― Emm Cole, Keeping Merminia

“The dead only knows their world.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita, Think Great: Be Great!

“Maybe my dissertation really had been as brilliant as he claimed, the truth was I remember almost nothing about it; the intellectual leaps I made when I was young were a distant memory to me, and now I was surrounded by a kind of aura, when really my only goal in life was to do a little reading and get in bed at four in the afternoon with a carton of cigarettes and a bottle; and yet, at the same time, I had to admit, I was going to die if I kept that up â€� I was going to die fast, unhappy and alone. And did I really want to die fast, unhappy and alone? In the end, only kind of.”
― Michel Houellebecq, Soumission

“Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.”
― A.E. Housman

“My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain:
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard and yet it was not told,
My fruit is fall'n, and yet my leaves are green,
My youth is spent and yet I am not old,
I saw the world and yet I was not seen:
My thread is cut and yet it is not spun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in my womb,
I looked for life, and saw it was a shade,
I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb,
And now I die, and now I was but made,
My glass is full, and now my glass is run,
And now I live, and now my life is done.”
― Chidiock Tichborne, The Top 500 Poems

“I saw a tree dancing in the wind, and it said to me, ‘I’m not doing this to entertain you, but to remind you of what life is - a dance in the wind!”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover

“Top question of the dying: "What made me sick?”
― Steven Magee

“
Darkness.

It was swallowing me.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see.

My limbs were as light as air. Reduced to atoms?

I was floating. I was at peace.

I closed my eyes and let it come. No more pain, no more suffering, just air. All around me, taking up the space of my body.”
― Kaylie Fowler

“What had he done? Something horrible, something terrible, but something he'd done as a child. Can you commit murder in innocence? It's too big a thing for the human mind to take in, that's the problem. And it grew with the ever-larger newspaper pictures of a girl who was near enough an angel, even before she died. Only the young die good. And Angela Milton died young enough to be perfect.”
― Jonathan Trigell

“Uselessness

Let mine not be the saddest fate of all,
To live beyond my greater self; to see
My faculties decaying, as the tree
Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall
Let me hear rather the imperious call,
Which all men dread, in my glad morning time,
And follow death ere I have reached my prime,
Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life's gall.
The lightning's stroke or the fierce tempest blast
Which fells the green tree to the earth to-day
Is kinder than the calm that lets it last,
Unhappy witness of its own decay.
May no man ever look on me and say,
'She lives, but all her usefulness is past.”
― Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Poems Of Cheer

“Reading a newspaper account of one young woman's fatal accident on a midsummer morning a few years ago got me thinking about how I would have liked to have departed before my time if that had been my destiny.

If I'd had to die young, hers is the death I would have chosen.

She was twenty-two, the story disclosed, bright, talented, beautiful, her future spread before her like a brilliant, textured tapestry. She'd just graduated from a prestigious eastern university, had accepted a communications position with a New York television network, and would depart the following day on a four-week holiday in Europe before embarking on her promising career and the rest of her exciting life.

On that golden summer day, the young woman had just finished her morning run. She had sprinted the last half mile, then stopped abruptly to catch her breath. She was bent at the waist, hands on her knees, eyes on the ground, her mind a world away, perhaps in Barcelona or Tuscany or Rome, exulting in the enchanting sights she would soon see, the splendid life she would have.

It was then that the train hit her.

Unaware, unthinking, oblivious to everything but the beguiling visions in her head, she had ended her run on the railroad tracks that wound through the center of her small Oregon town, one moment in the fullest expectancy of her glorious youth, adrenaline and endorphins coursing through her body, sugarplum visions dancing in her head, the next moment gone, the transition instantaneous, irrevocable, complete.”
― Lionel Fisher, Celebrating Time Alone: Stories Of Splendid Solitude

“I can tell you we were right, our bodies were right, life was really going to be that good, that pleasurable in every cell. Suddenly I remember the exact look of your body, but better than that the bright corners of your eyes, or the light of your face, the rich Long Island puppy-fat of your thighs, or the slick chino of your pants bright in the corners of my eyes, I remember your extraordinary act of courage in loving me”
― Sharon Olds

“Bigger tomatoes with a longer growing season," Dick said sagely, and then went back to showing me how I could help my family most efficiently by dying young.”
― Stephen King, The Mist

“I have sometimes looked at old photographs of the smiling faces of victims, and searched them desperately for some sign that they knew. Surely they must have known that within hours or days their life was to end in that car crash, in that aeroplane disaster, or in domestic tragedy. But I can find no sign whatever. Nothing. They look out serenely, a terrible warning to us all. 'No I didn't know. Just like you ... there were no signs.' 'I who died at thirty... I too had planned my forties.' 'I who died at twenty had dreamed, as you do, of the roses round the cottage someday. It could happen to you. Why not? Why me? Why you? Why not?”
― Josephine Hart, Damage

“She could not bear to look at the coffin because the tree whose timber had made it was once a seedling with tender leaves and baby branches; then it had grown, Tom unaware.”
― Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi, A Girl Is a Body of Water

“On that golden summer day, the young woman had just finished her morning run. She had sprinted the last half mile, then stopped abruptly to catch her breath. She was bent at the waist, hands on her knees, eyes on the ground, her mind a world away, perhaps in Barcelona or Tuscany or Rome, exulting in the enchanting sights she would soon see, the splendid life she would have.

It was then that the train hit her.

Unaware, unthinking, oblivious to everything but the beguiling visions in her head, she had ended her run on the railroad tracks that wound through the center of her small Oregon town, one moment in the fullest expectancy of her glorious youth, adrenaline and endorphins coursing through her body, sugarplum visions dancing in her head, the next moment gone, the transition instantaneous, irrevocable, complete.

If I'd had to die young, hers is the death I would have chosen.”
― Lionel Fisher, Celebrating Time Alone: Stories Of Splendid Solitude

“I can tell you we were right, our bodies were right, life was really going to be that good, that pleasurable in every cell. Suddenly I remember the exact look of your body, but better than that the bright corners of your eyes, or the light of your face, the rich Long Island puppy-fat of your thighs, or the slick chino of your pants bright in the corners of my eyes, I remember your extraordinary act of courage in loving me”
― Sharon Oldss

“The years might have been abbreviated, but she’d greedily seized every moment of them until they were finally torn from her grasp. The tide’s ebb may have won in the very end, but Delta had fought it valiantly.”
― Kristy McGinnis, Motion of Intervals

“It was hard to imagine how one could go to sleep healthy and whole and never wake up again.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, From Blood and Ash

“And he said...

...there is no haste for Death shall wait for you to arrive.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“There’s no pain, or even discomfort, which she’s happy about. If she should die, at least it shall be painless.”
― Madeline C.C. Harper, The Return of Light

“If you are what they call a "person of color," it seems your path will be beset with more challenges, setbacks, and villains than the rest. In addition to climate change, cancer, heart attacks, diabetes, and hypertension, this thing called racism--which some claim no longer exists--apparently also kills. Men of color, especially Black men and especially those who are poor, die younger than the rest.”
― Wajahat Ali, Go Back to Where You Came From: And Other Helpful Recommendations on How to Become American

“Andi wasn't sure why the sight of her father's dead body had upset her so much less than the sight of the dead red-truck kid. It could have been because the boy's body was evidence of an unlived life.”
― Rita Bullwinkel, Headshot