For them that think death's honesty won't fall upon them naturally life sometimes must get lonely.

For them that think death's honesty won't fall upon them naturally life sometimes must get lonely.

It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice; there are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, read more

It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice; there are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia.

In this world, nothing is certain but death and taxes.

In this world, nothing is certain but death and taxes.

In this world, man is a target of death, an easy prey to calamities, here every morsel and every draught read more

In this world, man is a target of death, an easy prey to calamities, here every morsel and every draught is liable to choke one, here one never receives a favour until he loses another instead, here every additional day in one's life is a day reduced from the total span of his existence, when death is the natural outcome of life, how can we expect immortality?

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.

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; When man is left alone read more

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; When man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!.

Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the read more

Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of him whom time cannot console.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and read more

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Death is patiently making my mask as I sleep. Each morning I awake to discover in the corners of my read more

Death is patiently making my mask as I sleep. Each morning I awake to discover in the corners of my eyes the small tears of his wax.