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.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
My situation is a solemn one. Life is offered to me on condition of eating beefsteaks. But death is better read more
My situation is a solemn one. Life is offered to me on condition of eating beefsteaks. But death is better than cannibalism. My will contains directions for my funeral, which will be followed not by mourning coaches, but by oxen, sheep, flocks of poultry, and a small traveling aquarium of live fish, all wearing white scarf's in honor of the man who perished rather than eat his fellow creatures.
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.
We cannot banish dangers, but we can banish fears. We must not demean life by standing in awe of death.
We cannot banish dangers, but we can banish fears. We must not demean life by standing in awe of death.
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.
How frighteningly few are the persons whose death would spoil our appetite and make the world seem empty.
How frighteningly few are the persons whose death would spoil our appetite and make the world seem empty.
If we don't know life, how can we know death?
If we don't know life, how can we know death?
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.
Call no man happy till he is dead.
Call no man happy till he is dead.
Death is the universal salt of states;
Blood is the base of all things--law and war.
Death is the universal salt of states;
Blood is the base of all things--law and war.
