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

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

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

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

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

I do not amuse myself by thinking of dead people.

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

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.

It is not my design to drink or sleep; my design is to make what haste I can to be gone.

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

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

When a man dies, and his kin are glad of it, they say, “He is better off.”

I imagined it was more difficult to die.