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

The life of the dead consists in the recollection cherished of them by the living.

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

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

To desire immortality for the individual is really the same as wanting to perpetuate an error forever.

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

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.

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

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

I imagined it was more difficult to die. 

Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away.

Death keeps no calendar.

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