Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven.
Our acts our angels are, for good or ill, our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly; to every day we live, a day we die.
When I die, I shall soar with angels, and when I die to the angels, what I shall become you cannot imagine.
We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.
Death is like an arrow that is already in flight, and your life lasts only until it reaches you.
The soul has illusions as the bird has wings: it is supported by them.
It is by suffering that human beings become angels.
Not even death can take us from the eternal blessings promised by a loving Heavenly Father.
Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.