Can we not live without pleasure, who cannot but with pleasure die?

Death keeps no calendar.

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.

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

Under the wide and starry sky, / Dig the grave and let me lie.

I order that my funeral ceremonies be extremely modest, and that they take place at dawn or at the evening Ave Maria, without song or music.

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away.

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

The call of death is a call of love. Death can be sweet if we answer it in the affirmative, if we accept it as one of the great eternal forms of life and transformation.

A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest.

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.

I doubt that we have any right to pity the dead for their own sakes.