We and the dead ride quick at night. 

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

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

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

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.

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. 

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

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.

What is death? A scary mask. Take it off—see, it doesn’t bite.

I imagined it was more difficult to die. 

Death renders all equal.

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

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.