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.

If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you read more

If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?

A man does not die of love or his liver or even of old age; he dies of being a read more

A man does not die of love or his liver or even of old age; he dies of being a man.

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."

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.

Boy, when you are dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has read more

Boy, when you are dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a god dam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you are dead? Nobody.

We must all die!
All leave ourselves, it matters not where, when,
Nor how, so we die read more

We must all die!
All leave ourselves, it matters not where, when,
Nor how, so we die well; and can that man that does so
Need lamentation for him?

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.

Death would not be called bad, O people, if one knew how to truly die.

Death would not be called bad, O people, if one knew how to truly die.