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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."
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.
Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger read more
Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people.
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.
We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as read more
We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance.
Death is a black camel, which kneels at the gates of all.
Death is a black camel, which kneels at the gates of all.
Most people would rather die than think: many do.
Most people would rather die than think: many do.
