It’s only the good die young.
It’s only in drugs or death we’ll see anything new, and death is just too controlling.
It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down – It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was almost worth dying to know all the trouble he’d made.
It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.
It is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, everpresent perils of life.
It is old age, rather than death, that is to be contrasted with life. Old age is life’s parody, whereas death transforms life into a destiny: in a way it preserves it by giving it the absolute dimension. Death does away with time.
It is nothing to die; it is frightful not to live.[Ce n’est rien de mourir; c’est affreux de ne pas vivre.]
It is not death that we wish to avoid, but life that we wish to live.
It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined.
It is a very mixed blessing to be brought back from the dead.
Is death the greatest evil that can happen to anyone?
