A fiction about soft or easy deaths is part of the mythology of most diseases that are not considered shameful or demeaning.
We should be considerate to the living; to the dead we owe only the truth.
Time rushes towards us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation.
I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.
I have lost friends, some by death...others by sheer inability to cross the street.
To you who have never died, may I say: Welcome to the world!
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
How frighteningly few are the persons whose death would spoil our appetite and make the world seem empty.
Thank Heaven! The crisis /The danger is past, and the lingering illness, is over at last /, and the fever called ''Living'' is conquered at last.
Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short, but when we have had our swing of pleasure, our fill of fruit, and our swelter of heat, we say we have had our day.
Living is death; dying is life. We are not what we appear to be. On this side of the grave we are exiles, on that citizens; on this side orphans, on that children.
I care not, a man can die but once; we owe God and death.
Death is the tyrant of the imagination.
To neglect at any time preparation for death is to sleep on our post at a siege; to omit it in old age is to sleep at an attack.
If you live to be one hundred, you've got it made. Very few people die past that age.
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.
I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying.
No one, at night, really believes he'll live forever.
Dying is one of the few things that can be done as easily lying down.
The fear of death often proves mortal, and sets people on methods to save their Lives, which infallibly destroy them.
Cursed is the man who dies, but the evil done by him survives.
When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; when man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!
The best place a person can die, is where they die for others.
The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.
You must not fear death, my lads; defy him, and you drive him into the enemy's ranks.
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