The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways—I to die, and you to live. Which is better, only the god knows.

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

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

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

I imagined it was more difficult to die. 

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

Those from whom we were born have long since departed, and those with whom we grew up exist only in memory. We, too, through the approach of death, become, as it were, trees growing on the sandy bank of a river.

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

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

I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark.

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.

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.