I looked and there was a pale green horse! Its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed with him.

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

Nobody, sir, dies willingly.

Whoever has died is freed from sin.

Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved.

Is this dying? Is this all? Is this all that I feared when I prayed against a hard death? Oh, I can bear this! I can bear it!

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

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.

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.

Death renders all equal.

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

It is not my design to drink or sleep; my design is to make what haste I can to be gone.