Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces. — Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet
Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces. — Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet
Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces. — Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet
Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces. — Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet
Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces. — Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet
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Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces.

— Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet
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More “Death” Quotes

We are mortals all, human and nonhuman, bound in one fellowship of love and travail. No one escapes the fate of death. B — Gary Kowalski, The Souls of Animals
If some persons died and others did not die death would indeed be a terrible affliction. — Jean de La Bruyère
Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly che — Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
Funerals aren't scheduled. — Benjamin J. Carey, Barefoot in November
Old age is not meant to be survived alone," Man Rapadou said, her voice trailing with her own hidden thoughts. "Death sh — Edwidge Danticat, The Farming of Bones
What kind of lifehave you lived, little one, that everything seems to be a question of fair and unfair? Life and death j — Sherrilyn Kenyon
Every story is a story about death. But perhaps, if we are lucky, our story about death is also a story about love. — Helen Humphreys, The Lost Garden
The chanting went on, the musicians giving in to the rhythm of their own being, finding healing in touching that rhythm, — Karl Marlantes, Matterhorn
Может быть, у смерти совсем другое имя. Мы ведь видим ее всегда только с одной стороны. Может быть, смерть - это соверше — Erich Maria Remarque, The Black Obelisk
This concern, feebly called 'love of nature', seemed to Shevek to be something much broader than love. There are souls, — Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed
He'd learned something. Life was booby-trapped and there was no easy passage through. You had to jump from colour to col — Rupert Thomson, The Five Gates of Hell
It came to Mary now that her mother had been right, after all; Mary had been born for this. In sixteen years she'd shot — Emma Donoghue, Slammerkin