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

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

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. 

Is this dying? Is this all? Is this all that I feared when I prayed against a hard death? Oh, I can bear this! I can bear it!

Death renders all equal.

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

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

Whoever has died is freed from sin.

The call of death is a call of love. Death can be sweet if we answer it in the affirmative, if we accept it as one of the great eternal forms of life and transformation.

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

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

Nobody, sir, dies willingly.

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