Go thou, deceased, to this earth which is a mother, and spacious
and kind. May her touch be soft like that of wool, or a young
woman, and may she protect thee from the depths of destruction.
Rise above him, O Earth, do not press painfully on him, give him
good things, give him consolation, as a mother covers her child
with her cloth, cover thou him.
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We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as read more
We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance.
I don't have no fear of death. My only fear is coming back reincarnated.
I don't have no fear of death. My only fear is coming back reincarnated.
Somewhere, in desolate, wind-swept space,
In twilight land, in no man's land,
Two hurrying shapes met face read more
Somewhere, in desolate, wind-swept space,
In twilight land, in no man's land,
Two hurrying shapes met face to face
And bade each other stand.
"And who are you?" cried one, a-gape,
Shuddering in the glimmering light.
"I know not," said the second shape,
"I only died last night."
But whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van,
The fittest place where man can read more
But whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van,
The fittest place where man can die
Is where he dies for man.
Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead. When Death claims the light of my brow No flowers of life read more
Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead. When Death claims the light of my brow No flowers of life will cheer me: instead You may give me my roses now!
Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger read more
Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people.
I don\'t believe in death, neither in flesh nor in spirit.
I don\'t believe in death, neither in flesh nor in spirit.
But when the sun in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory's morning read more
But when the sun in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory's morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.
