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."

Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable read more

Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

God is becoming bitter, he envies man his mortality.

God is becoming bitter, he envies man his mortality.

Death--the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.

Death--the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.