As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.

Everything turns in circles and spirals with the cosmic heart until infinity. Everything has a vibration that spirals inward or outward — and everything turns together in the same direction at the same time. This vibration keeps going: it becomes born and expands or closes and destructs — only to repeat the cycle again in opposite current. Like a lotus, it opens or closes, dies and is born again. Such is also the story of the sun and moon, of me and you. Nothing truly dies. All energy simply transforms.

Far too often, it is at the moment where we finally stand on the very precipice of some great thing that we turn and abandon it, for it is at these seminal moments that fear wins and greatness dies. The beauty of Christmas is that God steps over precipices.

Well, you’re not exactly social, are you, Mandy Valems?”“Oh yeah, sure, because I’m just surrounded by genius to be social with in this day and age,” Mandy replied with razor-sharp sarcasm. “Hey, I don’t need anyone else! I’ve got you, you’re my friend, and you’ll be with me forever!”“…You won’t be with me forever, though…” said Alecto cynically. “I’m like a spider’s web; anyone who is friends with me gets dragged into my troubles and eventually dies.”“…Poetic, dear friend,” Mandy sighed, shaking her head. “Morbid, but poetic.

The greatest legacy a father can leave for his children before he departs is PEACE, otherwise his properties will go in PIECES sooner that he dies.

Should I leave you two alone?" he asked, changing the subject."He's taken," I said, accepting the fact that forgiving himself was something Reyes didn't do. "Osh. By someone very special.""And who might that be?"This might be a little hard for him to swallow. Tact was definitely in order. Or I could just blurt it out and watch his expression go from content to disbelief to horror to a bristly, murderous kind of fury. I chose door number two. "He's destined to be with our daughter."Reyes's expression slowly changed from content to disbelief to horror to a bristly, murderous kind of fury. "Oh, hell, no." He shot to his feet. "A Daeva? Are you fucking kidding me?"Just like a dad."Yes, a Daeva. But I wouldn't dismiss him so offhandedly."He whirled around and scowled. Not really at me. Just in general. "What do you mean?"I pressed one corner of my mouth together in thought. "Okay, you know how I was the grim reaper all of my life, then suddenly I'm also this god from another dimension? And how you're the son of Satan all your life, then suddenly you're a god from this dimension? Who does that? Our lives are so weird. I think that maybe Osh is something else, too." I traced one of the dark lines on his face. "I think there's more than meets the eye. I see greatness in him, Reyes. I see a power beyond our imaginings. I see him giving his life for our daughter.""Oh." He sat back down, satisfied. "As long as he dies in the end.

Pain pumps blood when heart dies

Not everyone who died had left a "memory" and not everyone who had left a memory had left a "blessed" one. Therefore, not all have died should be tagged "...of a blessed memory

True leaders are willing to die for their dreams. They don't oppress with ignorance; they impress with visions". They live like Martin Luther King Jr, Nelson Mandela...

No matter how ugly the manner in which a man dies, it’s only the presence of a suffering human soul that is horrifying, once gone, what is left is only an object.

What I most hate is the books and films and all other stuff which all the time end in happy end, do you hate it...It's better to be in happy and... - After all I wanted to show the taste of the real world, a injury in father's childhood, then injury when his wife dies...

Until a seed falls to the ground and dies, it does not become a tree that later yields many fruits and multitude of seeds. We must embrace the thought of death for us to have greater lives.

Everyone should be happy... everyone deserves it... When you are happy... it's time your dog to leave you... it's a time when your dogs dies and enters somebody's else life.

Watching someone you love go through difficult times is like being trapped in your own body but paralyzed. You want to yell at them, scream, help them, but your body won’t move, and you know that no matter how hard you try, in the end, the path is theirs to choose. You can’t choose for them. What a terrifying concept, especially considering we hardly see every option when we’re stuck in our own self-defeat.

From 1 to 18 is the holly worst parts of your life, you are caged and you can't do anything times passes events happen different today your granpa is alive, but tomorrow probably he will die or the next month or later-later. But what can it be done for that??

The sun loves the moon so much that he dies every night to let her breathe, and in return, she reflects his love.

There isn't doubt about that, everyone dies.

When humanity dies, what happens to all the people?

Everyday somebody dies... in combat, in war in battle... in game everwhere... so far nowhere is safety as you think.... I can tell you fom here what you think is wrong.... (What can you do about that??)

One thing left me, my dad died before few weeks and with the time will be very far... It will start with seconds, hours, days, weeks, months, years....My grandpa died this year, my grandpa other died somewhere in 2012-2013, my dog died 2014, Robin Williams died... Everyone dies, what I can do for that???

Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.

Nobody dies in Vain (1408 - Film).

Will be there any spinoff?A lesson?Person of Interest have a lessons... first we all die alone as a second when you start understanding the somebody... it comes a moment when the cards end up and he dies.

If poetry dies, nothing lives !

Once out from it, never made a sound. Without sound, you never know who dies and who know so you dare?