I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you. — Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you. — Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you. — Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you. — Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you. — Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
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I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you.

— Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
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More “Death” Quotes

Certainty. Life's last and kindest gift. — Milan Kundera, Life is Elsewhere
I told her that the pills will let her slip off and that when a person dies there comes a long clean sleep.” “That’s all — Annie Fisher, The Greater Picture
There are not enough words in the English language to describe the experience of this. Death is more than life. Humans p — Kate McGahan, JACK McAFGHAN: Reflections on Life with my Master
The music of cri-cri and cigales droned on in a hypnotic rhythm, punctuated by the occasional croon of the nightingale. — Meg Merriet, Sky Song Overture
THE CURE FOR EXHAUSTIONSometimes, exhaustedwith toil and endeavour,I wish I could sleepfor ever and ever;but then this r — Piet Hein
The grey of a bitter, starved-looking morning. The town like a mortally wounded creature, torn by shells, gashed open by — Radclyffe Hall
Every time I go to sleep, I know I may never wake up. How could anyone expect to? You drop your tiny, helpless mind into — Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies
Sleep is a shallow death we practice every night. — Lydia Netzer, How to Tell Toledo from the Night Sky
He calmed himself, shut his eyes, and fell asleep. The rear light of consciousness, like the last express train of the n — Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit,And look on death itself! — William Shakespeare, Macbeth
In practice it is death that works soseductively behind the image of its brother, sleep — Friedrich Nietzsche
For me, sleep equaled death. How was closing your eyes and losing consciousness any different from death? What separated — Lena Dunham