Life comes to the miners out of their deaths, and death out of their lives.
If some persons died, and others did not die, death would be a terrible affliction.
Death, they say, acquits us of all obligations.
The passion of hatred is so long lived and so obstinate a malady that the surest sign of death in a sick person is their desire for reconciliation.
I’m not afraid of death at all.
Good is positive. Evil is merely privative, not absolute: it is like cold, which is the privation of heat. All evil is so much death or nonentity. Benevolence is absolute and real. So much benevolence as a man hath, so much life hath he.
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man’s brow.
I do fear death. But what I actually fear is not dying. I mean, true, it will be sad. But I know that there is a better place waiting for me.
The gods conceal from men the happiness of death, that they may endure life.