I stay a little longer, as one stays, to cover up the embers that still burn.
The course of my long life hath reached at last in fragile bark over a tempestuous sea the common harbor, where must rendered be account for all the actions of the past.
From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.
There is no death! What seems so is transition; this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian, whose portal we call Death.
Quotes about Life Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art; to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
The grave itself is but a covered bridge, Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
There is no flock, however watched and tended, but one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside howsoe'er defended, but has one vacant chair.
The young may die, but the old must!
Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, a shadow on those features fair and thin. And softly, from the hushed and darkened room, two angels issued, where but one went in.
Death is better than disease.
Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
When a great man dies, for years the light he leaves behind him, lies on the paths of men.
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.