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.

All say, 'How hard it is that we have to die' - a strange complaint to come from the mouths read more

All say, 'How hard it is that we have to die' - a strange complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to live.

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.

Time rushes towards us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its read more

Time rushes towards us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation.

It is as natural to die as to be born; and to a little infant,
perhaps, the one is read more

It is as natural to die as to be born; and to a little infant,
perhaps, the one is as painful as the other.

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.

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.

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.

The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.

The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.