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.

He was a great patriot, a humanitarian, a loyal friend - provided, of course, that he really is dead.

He was a great patriot, a humanitarian, a loyal friend - provided, of course, that he really is dead.

If there were dreams to sell, what would you buy?

If there were dreams to sell, what would you buy?

One can survive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anything, except a good reputation.

One can survive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anything, except a good reputation.

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.

One death is a tragedy; one million is a statistic.

One death is a tragedy; one million is a statistic.

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.

He who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all this friends:
Faithful friends! It lies I read more

He who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all this friends:
Faithful friends! It lies I know
Pale and white and cold as snow;
And ye say, "Abdallah's dead!"
Weeping at the feet and head.
I can see your falling tears,
I can hear your sighs and prayers;
Yet I smile and whisper this:
I am not the thing you kiss.
Cease your tears and let it lie;
It was mine--it is not I.

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls
a butterfly.

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls
a butterfly.