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

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

A god cannot procure death for himself, even if he wished it, which, so numerous are the evils of life, has been granted to man as our chief good.

I do not amuse myself by thinking of dead people.

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

We and the dead ride quick at night. 

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

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

There never is absolute birth nor complete death, in the strict sense, consisting in the separation of the soul from the body. What we call births are developments and growths, while what we call deaths are envelopments and diminutions.

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

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

To desire immortality for the individual is really the same as wanting to perpetuate an error forever.

If a parricide is more wicked than anyone who commits homicide—because he kills not merely a man but a near relative—without doubt worse still is he who kills himself, because there is none nearer to a man than himself.