You May Also Like / View all maxioms
What then remains, but that we still should cry
Not to be born, or being born to die.
What then remains, but that we still should cry
Not to be born, or being born to die.
Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that read more
Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.
Go thou, deceased, to this earth which is a mother, and spacious
and kind. May her touch be soft read more
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.
There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death.
There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when everything in which he had trusted read more
If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when everything in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming eventually to hopeless misery. He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does. In place of this we have death.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's
troublesome.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's
troublesome.
Die? I should say not, dear fellow. No Barrymore would allow such a conventional thing to happen to him.
Die? I should say not, dear fellow. No Barrymore would allow such a conventional thing to happen to him.
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.