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

Men have written in the most convincing manner to prove that death is no evil, and this opinion has been confirmed on a thousand celebrated occasions by the weakest of men as well as by heroes. Even so I doubt whether any sensible person has ever believed it, and the trouble men take to convince others as well as themselves that they do shows clearly that it is no easy undertaking. 

Anyone who’s never watched somebody die is suffering from a pretty bad case of virginity.

I’m doomed to die, right? Why should I care if I go to Hades either with gout in my leg or a runner’s grace? Plenty of people will carry me there.

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.

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

I do not amuse myself by thinking of dead people.

I imagined it was more difficult to die. 

In dealing with the dead, if we treat them as if they were entirely dead, that would show a want of affection and should not be done; or, if we treat them as if they were entirely alive, that would show a want of wisdom and should not be done.

I doubt that we have any right to pity the dead for their own sakes.

Under the wide and starry sky, / Dig the grave and let me lie.

I looked and there was a pale green horse! Its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed with him.

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