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

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

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 do not amuse myself by thinking of dead people.

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

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.

Whoever has died is freed from sin.

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.

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

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

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

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.