Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Corpse. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Corpse Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including Alanna Knight,Stephen King,Anne Sexton,Ramana Maharshi,Thomas Traherne for you to enjoy and share.
If one drops dead in the street, friends and loved ones are shocked, stricken, but a long lingering death loses all nobility and drama, while relatives and friends await the inevitable end in a succession of weary anti-climaxes.
Death is a mystery, and burial is a secret.
Someone is dead.
Even the trees know it,
those poor old dancers who come on lewdly,
all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
Who am I? Not the body, because it is decaying; not the mind, because the brain will decay with the body; not the personality, nor the emotions, for these also will vanish with death.
The Soul is shriveled up and buried in a grave that does not love.
Don't bury me but instead use me as fertilizer to grow a tree..I can prove to you im useful both alive and dead
A person without regrets is called a corpse.
While you are living, part of you has slipped away to the cemetery.
Death's the discarder.
every passing moment looking at the corpse, I became aware
Dead. It sounds final but it's a word missing an ing.
Funny how they're corpses if you didn't know them, but bodies if you did.
How quickly the dead faded into each other,
inert and seemingly lifeless.
Better to rest in peace than rot in pieces
I'll make a beautiful corpse.
Whoa ,zombie dude
The body is never more alive than when it is dead; but it is alive in its units, and dead in its totality; alive as a congeries, dead as an organism.
Death is misery! The lifeless person was once full of life.
I'm dead?"
"That body is... yes.
there was almost no smell from the corpse.
Cadavers and spirits are human refuse, and they are absurdly difficult to dispose of properly. When someone dies, a small gang of specialists is required to remove and inter the body in such a way that it can always be located precisely at any time while preventing it from ever appearing again.
Heart failure, it explains nothing! I have yet to meet a corpse whose heart it still beats.
The loss inside him kept piling - vertebrae shattered, finger bones lost, gravestone past and guillotine future, ghost woman and her ghost curls,
The dead are visible only in the terrible lidless eye of memory.
His heart was a grave.
There is nothing so actively alive as the dead.
The dead vanishes into thin air.
There are all these people bragging about how they're survivors, as though that's something very special. But the only kind of person who can't say that is a corpse.
There's a grave I need to visit.
The consciousness of being deemed dead, is next to the presumable unpleasantness of being so in reality. One feels like his own ghost unlawfully tenanting a defunct carcass.
I am a corpse bored with my own funeral. I live like a gypsy, only with less gold and maybe more curses.
Unplug from the humble needs of the body and a person becomes no more than a ghost.
His big body was nothing but death waiting for a place to happen.
the death cannot die
For me a corpse has a beauty and dignity which a living body could never hold ... there is a peace about death that soothes me.
The dead are never still, they exist just beyond the corners of our eye, in the barren wasteland beyond our own phantasmagoria, and we, for the most part, remain oblivious to their plight.
Ghost: Murder most foul, as in the best it is. But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
Who embalms the Undertaker when he dies?
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Where, indeed. Many a badly stung survivor, faced with the aftermath of some relative's funeral, has ruefully concluded that the victory has been won hands down by a funeral establishment - in disastrously unequal battle.
It is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be, turn to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched, its faculties dissipated; that is death.
Kill the head, the body will die.
hardly had my knife severed the head of each, before the whole body began to melt away and crumble into its native dust, as though the death that should have come centuries ago had at last assert himself and say at once and loud, "I am here!
Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too, decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.
Gentlemen, you are, as i am, in search of a woman who, must have passed this way, for i see a corpse.
I am Death ... and I am haunted and horrified by life.
The dead person once had a life! This is a misery?
I love the dead ... Frequently.
Death haunts everyone and never fails
memory is a shallow grave
you're not dead-you're dormant.
One fine day you've got to give your body to somebody, or turn into a fully-fledged zombie.
lying on "mattress graves.
It is a strange thing how quickly the body dies. How fragile a force our presence is. In an instant the soul is gone - leaving an empty, insignificant vessel in its stead.
The dead should not linger.
You are dead- what am I speaking to?
You are a little soul carrying around a corpse
I am a dead man who wanders
registered nowhere
My corpse will smell wonderful.
A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom.
This was not [him]. It was a thing, with all the [him]-ness gone from it. Death takes the person and leaves his shell behind, like a hollowed-out tree.
While friends and lovers mourn your silly grave, I have other uses for you, darling. I love the dead.
One forgets the dead quite quickly; one doesn't wonder about the dead-what is he doing now, who is he with?
When you're writing a whodunit, the dead body is the most important character. It's the pivot point around which the plot spins.
There's nothing like a headless corpse to bring a touch of excitement into one's life.
Give me a good clean death.
They say you can put lipstick on a pig and it's still a pig. The same holds true for a dead body. Put lipstick on a corpse and you've played dress-up with a corpse.
Death is not my best subject.
He was going to sleep a little while. He lay still and death was not there. It must have gone around another street. It went in pairs, on bicycles, and moved absolutely silently on the pavements.
I brush my hair,
waiting in the pain machine for my bones to get hard,
for the soft, soft bones that were laid apart
and were screwed together. They will knit.
And the other corpse, the fractured heart,
I feed it piecemeal, little chalice. I'm good to it.
The body was so little a part of him that its final stillness seemed nothing of importance. He was half out of it anyway and death was only a slipping out of it altogether and being at last what he always was, a spirit. We buried the pearly shell upon the mountain top.
You are a person and then you cease to be a person, and a cadaver takes your place.
There is something beyond the grave; death does not end all, and the pale ghost escapes from the vanquished pyre.
If it's dead, don't go digging it up every five minutes to check if there's a pulse. It's dead; walk away.
Dead.
Even in the silence of my mind I cannot think the word. I cannot acknowledge this most obvious and terrible of truths.
But that's the thing with death. The whisper of it descent travels fast and wide, and people must've know I'd become a corpse because nobody even came to view the body.
Life is but a dream for the dead.
There is no more foul or relentless enemy of man in the occult world than this dead-alive creature spewed up from the grave.
How vulgar funerals must seem to the dead!
The dead are too much with us.
The only way the dead live on is through the people they leave behind.
In my defense, the corpse was entirely unexpected.
Nothing is more hip than a corpse. The style is timeless. Death is trending.
Death is the mother of forms.
What does the corpse care who was right and who was wrong?
He makes a very handsome corpse and becomes his coffin prodigiously.
The dead are notoriously hard to satisfy,
I watched with disturbed fascination as the corpses decomposed, flesh turning to a pale tan goo. The bones melted after, and then the clothing. In seconds, each corpse was just a pile of colored gunk, and even that seemed to be evaporating.
No one is ever really dead unless we find the body.
The dead will always be dead, but we have to go on living.
Soul rotted before my eyes.
Nothing resembles a person as much as the way he dies.
I am a dead man, that's all...
...
My Brain doesn't work
properly.
My Brain is diagonessed officially dead....
I feel like a real dead one: having neither blood to bleed nor any flesh or bone to feel the scars; yet I want to hold on to my spirit.
Who said death is dead? He's fully alive, traveling around the world, throwing shadows and soaking in the sun. Visiting the young and old; placing bets and dicing regrets, for the worse or a better off place.
A funeral is not death, any more than baptism is birth or marriage union. All three are the clumsy devices, coming now too late, now too early, by which Society would register the quick motions of man.
Insects are major players in nature's recycling effort, and in nature a corpse is simply organic matter to be recycled. Left to its own devices, nature quickly populates a corpse with a diverse community of organisms, all dedicated to reducing the body to its basic components.
the dead lose every sense except hearing.
Something had been buried that was not yet dead.
Any new corpses today?"
"None yet."
"Pity. I'm getting so I miss my morning coffee and corpse.