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.
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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.
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.
But whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van,
The fittest place where man can read more
But whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van,
The fittest place where man can die
Is where he dies for man.
Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead. When Death claims the light of my brow No flowers of life read more
Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead. When Death claims the light of my brow No flowers of life will cheer me: instead You may give me my roses now!
To die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Death of one's own free choice, death at read more
To die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Death of one's own free choice, death at the proper time, with a clear head and with joyfulness, consummated in the midst of children and witnesses: so that an actual leave-taking is possible while he who is leaving is still there.
A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.
A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.
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?
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.
Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
