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

Nobody, sir, dies willingly.

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.

The only evidence, so far as I know, about another life is, first, that we have no evidence; and, secondly, that we are rather sorry that we have not, and wish we had.

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.

Can we not live without pleasure, who cannot but with pleasure die?

I was born without knowing why, I have lived without knowing why, and I am dying without either knowing why or how.

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

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.

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.

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Whoever has died is freed from sin.