When performing an autopsy, even the most inveterate spiritualist would have to question where the soul is.
He who pretends to look on death without fear lies. All men are afraid of dying, this is the great law of sentient beings, without which the entire human species would soon be destroyed.
We must die alone. To the very verge of the stream our friends may accompany us; they may bend over us, they may cling to us there; but that one long wave from the sea of eternity washes up to the lips, sweeps us from the shore, and we go forth alone! In that untried and utter solitude, then, what can there be for us but the pulsation of that assurance, "I am not alone, because the Father is with me!
It is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be, turn to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched, its faculties dissipated; that is death.
The mature, forty-five-year-old woman, quite experienced in matters of life and death, knows that it was 'for the best,' but Daddy's girl, who hung onto his belt and danced fox trots on the tops of his shoes, cannot accept that Daddy is not here anymore.
Every man at time of Death, Would fain set forth some saying that may live After his death and better humankind; For death gives life's last word a power to live, And, lie the stone-cut epitaph, remain After the vanished voice, and speak to men.
The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn.
All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.
These have not the hope to die.
So that he seemed not to relinquish life, but to leave one home for another.
The living is a species of the dead; and not a very attractive one.
one day anyone died i guess (and noone stooped to kiss his face) busy folk buried them side by side little by little and was by was
Buffalo Bill's defunct
To die at the command of another is to die twice.
I do so hate to leave this world.
Children and old people and the parents in between should be able to live together, in order to learn how to die with grace, together. And I fear that this is purely utopian fantasy.
It is by no means a fact that death is the worst of all evils; when it comes it is an alleviation to mortals who are worn out with sufferings.
It is abundantly evident that, however natural it may be for us to feel sorrow at the death of our relatives, that sorrow is an error and an evil, and we ought to overcome it. There is no need to sorrow for them, for they have passed into a far wider and happier life. If we sorrow for our own fancied separation from them, we are in the first place weeping over an illusion, for in truth they are not separated from us; and secondly, we are acting selfishly, because we are thinking more of our own apparent loss than of their great and real gain.
The attitude of mourning is a faithless attitude, an ignorant attitude. The more we know, the more fully we shall trust, for we shall feel with utter certainty that we and our dead are alike in the hands of perfect Power and perfect Wisdom, directed by perfect Love.
Out of the chill and the shadow, into the thrill and the shine. Out of the dearth and the famine, into the fulness divine.
Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me
Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.
Whoever mourns the dead mourns himself.
Death persecutes before it executes.
Death is dancing me ragged.
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