Whoever has died is freed from sin.

Man has here two and a half minutes—one to smile, one to sigh, and half a one to love; for in the midst of this minute he dies.

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

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

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

I imagined it was more difficult to die. 

Imagine a number of men in chains, all under sentence of death, some of whom are each day butchered in the sight of the others; those remaining see their own condition in that of their fellows and, looking at each other with grief and despair, await their turn. This is an image of the human condition.

Every individual existence goes out in a lonely spasm of helpless agony.

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

You are dust, and to dust you shall return.

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.