"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly without complexities or pride. I love you because I know no other way then this. So close that your hand, on my chest, is my hand. So close, that when you close your eyes, I fall asleep."
" What's wrong with death sir? What are we so mortally afraid of? Why can't we treat death with a certain amount of humanity and dignity, and decency, and God forbid, maybe even humor. Death is not the enemy gentlemen. If we're going to fight a disease, let's fight one of the most terrible diseases of all, indifference. "
"Hunter Patch Adams: Death. To die. To expire. To pass on. To perish. To peg out. To push up daisies. To push up posies. To become extinct. Curtains, deceased, Demised, departed And defunct. Dead as a doornail. Dead as a herring. Dead as a mutton. Dead as nits. The last breath. Paying a debt to nature. The big sleep. God's way of saying, "Slow down."
Bill Davis: To check out.
Hunter Patch Adams: To shuffle off this mortal coil.
Bill Davis: To head for the happy hunting ground.
Hunter Patch Adams: To blink for an exceptionally long period of time.
Bill Davis: To find oneself without breath.
Hunter Patch Adams: To be the incredible decaying man.
Bill Davis: Worm buffet.
Hunter Patch Adams: Kick the bucket.
Bill Davis: Buy the farm.
Hunter Patch Adams: Take the cab.
Bill Davis: Cash in your chips.
Hunter Patch Adams: And if we bury you ass up, I have got a place to park my bike."
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