We quaff the cup of life with eager haste without draining it, instead of which it only overflows the brim - objects press around us, filling the mind with the throng of desires that wait upon them, so that we have no room for the thoughts of death.
And now, I am dying beyond my means. (Said while sipping champagne on his deathbed.)
A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.
Relations are simply a tedious pack of people, who haven't the remotest knowledge of how to live, nor the smallest instinct about when to die
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
The Governor was strong upon/ The Regulations Act:/ The Doctor said that Death was but/ A scientific fact:/ And twice a day the Chaplain called,/ And left a little tract.
My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.
One can survive everything, nowadays, except death, and live down everything except a good reputation.
Alas, I am dying beyond my means.
Most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.
When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.
Some things are more precious because they don't last long.
All trials are trials for one's life, just as all sentences are sentences of death.
And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats None knew so well as I: That he who lives more lives than one, More deaths than one shall die.
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats, none knew so well as I: for he who lives more lives than one more deaths than one must die.
For he who lives more lives than one more deaths than one must die.