I don’t believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.

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

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

The life of the dead consists in the recollection cherished of them by the living.

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.

Anyone who’s never watched somebody die is suffering from a pretty bad case of virginity.

If a man will observe as he walks the streets, I believe he will find the merriest countenances in mourning coaches.

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Death renders all equal.

I was born without knowing why, I have lived without knowing why, and I am dying without either knowing why or how.

What is death? A scary mask. Take it off—see, it doesn’t bite.

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

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.