I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.
Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go, They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all,-- There are none to decline your nectar'd wine, But alone you must drink life's gall.
No one will grieve because your lips are dumb.
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