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

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 imagined it was more difficult to die. 

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

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

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.

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

I think it makes small difference to the dead if they are buried in the tokens of luxury. All this is an empty glorification left for those who live.

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.

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

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

Epitaph, n. An inscription on a tomb, showing that virtues acquired by death have a retroactive effect.