Lord knows why they depict death with wings when death is everywhere.

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.

For Death must be somewhere in a society; if it is no longer (or less intensely) in religion, it must be elsewhere; perhaps in this image which produces Death while trying to preserve life. Contemporary with the withdrawal of rites, Photography may correspond to the intrusion, in our modern society, of an asymbolic Death, outside of religion, outside of ritual, a kind of abrupt dive into literal Death.

No thought is born in me that does not bear the image of death.

Death is a mirror which reflects the vain gesticulations of the living. The whole motley confusion of acts, occasions, regrets and hopes which is the life of each one of us finds in death, not meaning or explanation, but an end.

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.

they understand death better than we, a sense of beginning, middle, and end which they regard with passionless aplomb.

If, for example, you were to think more deeply about death, then it would be truly strange if, in doing so, you did not encounter new images, new linguistic fields.

Life is a movie; death is a photograph.

The truth can be glimpsed only through the eyes of death.

Death is the dark backing that a mirror needs if we are to see anything.

There’s nothing like a stupid, accidental death to remind you of the supreme futility of everything.

The image a society evolves of the relationship between the living and the dead is, in the final analysis, an attempt, on the level of religious thought, to conceal, embellish or justify the actual relationships which prevail among the living.

Wherever you feel death, feel it. Don’t escape. Death is beautiful; death is the greatest mystery, more mysterious than life. Through life you can gain the world, the futile world- meaningless, worthless. Through death you can gain the eternal. Death is the door.