There is no man so fortunate that there shall not be by him when he is dying some who are pleased with what is going to happen.

When a man dies, and his kin are glad of it, they say, “He is better off.”

Imagine a number of men in chains, all under sentence of death, some of whom are each day butchered in the sight of the others; those remaining see their own condition in that of their fellows and, looking at each other with grief and despair, await their turn. This is an image of the human condition.

Let my epitaph be, “Here lies Joseph, who failed in everything he undertook.”

Life is a farce, and should not end with a mourning scene.

I’m doomed to die, right? Why should I care if I go to Hades either with gout in my leg or a runner’s grace? Plenty of people will carry me there.

In dealing with the dead, if we treat them as if they were entirely dead, that would show a want of affection and should not be done; or, if we treat them as if they were entirely alive, that would show a want of wisdom and should not be done.

We and the dead ride quick at night. 

The play is the tragedy “Man,” And its hero the conqueror worm.

I think it makes small difference to the dead if they are buried in the tokens of luxury. All this is an empty glorification left for those who live.

It is noble to die before doing anything that deserves death.

The dead are often just as living to us as the living are, only we cannot get them to believe it. They can come to us, but till we die we cannot go to them. To be dead is to be unable to understand that one is alive. 

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.