We and the dead ride quick at night. 

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

The dead are often just as living to us as the living are, only we cannot get them to believe it. They can come to us, but till we die we cannot go to them. To be dead is to be unable to understand that one is alive. 

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

Man has here two and a half minutes—one to smile, one to sigh, and half a one to love; for in the midst of this minute he dies.

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

Whoever has died is freed from sin.

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

Imagine a number of men in chains, all under sentence of death, some of whom are each day butchered in the sight of the others; those remaining see their own condition in that of their fellows and, looking at each other with grief and despair, await their turn. This is an image of the human condition.

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.

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