Ovid Quotes about Death

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Nothing retains its form; new shapes from old. Nature, the great inventor, ceaselessly contrives. In all creation, be assured, there is no death - no death, but only change and innovation; what we men call birth is but

Nothing retains its form; new shapes from old. Nature, the great inventor, ceaselessly contrives. In all creation, be assured, there is no death - no death, but only change and innovation; what we men call birth is but a different new beginning; death is but to cease to be the same. Perhaps this may have moved to that, and that to this, yet still the sum of things remains the same.

Ovid

Death, New Beginnings, Men

Ovid,, A. D. Melville, E. J. Kenney (2008). “Metamorphoses”, p.359, Oxford University Press

O fool, what else is sleep but chill death's likeness?

Ovid

Death, Sleep, Fool

What we call birth Is but a beginning to be something else Than what we were before; and when we cease To be that something, then we call it death.

Ovid

Death, Birth, Cease

Envy feeds on the living, after death it rests, then the honor of a man protects him.

Ovid

Death, Men, Envy

An evil life is a kind of death.

Ovid

Life, Death, Evil

Thus all things altered. Nothing dies. And here and there the unbodied spirit flies.

Ovid

Death, Here And There, Spirit

We are all bound thither; we are hastening to the same common goal. Black death calls all things under the sway of its laws. [Lat., Tendimus huc omnes; metam properamus ad unam. Omnia sub leges mors vocat atra suas.]

Ovid

Death, Law, Goal

Wherever I look there is nothing but the image of death.

Ovid

Death, Looks

Tis on the living Envy feeds. She silent grows When, after death, man's honor is his guard. So I, when on the pyre consumed I lie, Shall live, for all that's noblest will survive.

Ovid

Death, Lying, Men

Death is not grievous to me, for I shall lay aside my pains by death. [Lat., Nec mihi mors gravis est posituro morte dolores.]

Ovid

Death, Pain, Lays

Man should ever look to his last day, and no one should be called happy before his funeral. [Lat., Ultima semper Expectanda dies homini est, dicique beatus Ante obitum nemo et suprema funera debet.]

Ovid

Death, Men, Funeral

Thou fool, what is sleep but the image of death? Fate will give an eternal rest. [Lat., Stulte, quid est somnus, gelidae nisi mortis imago? Longa quiescendi tempora fata dabunt.]

Ovid

Death, Sleep, Fate

We beg one hour of death, that neither she With widow's tears may live to bury me, Nor weeping I, with wither'd arms, may bear My breathless Baucis to the sepulchre.

Ovid

Death, Tears, Widows

Ovid (1836). “Ovid”, p.259