The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.

Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.

All that live must die, passing through nature to eternity.

Pale death with an impartial foot knocks at the hovels of the poor and the palaces of king.

When I have fears that I may cease to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain.

I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable grayness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamor, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat.

Good God! how often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.

Life levels all men. Death reveals the eminent.

I want death to find me planting my cabbage

Those who have lived a good life do not fear death, but meet it calmly, and even long for it in the face of great suffering. But those who do not have a peaceful conscience, dread death as though life means nothing but physical torment. The challenge is to live our life so that we will be prepared for death when it comes.