The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies.
It hath been often said, that it is not death, but dying, which is terrible.
Dying is one of the few things that can be done as easily lying down.
My very best friend died in a car accident when I was 16 years old. That was the hardest blow emotionally that I have ever had to endure. Suddenly, you realize tomorrow might not come. Now I live by the motto, 'Today is what I have.'
I find no change of consequence in grown people, I do not miss the dead. It does not surprise me to hear that this friend or that friend died at such and such a time, because I fully expected that sort of news. But somehow I had made no calculation on the infants. It never occurred to me that infants grow up...These unexpected changes, from infancy to youth, and from youth to maturity, are by far the most startling things I meet with.
Then, with an enormous rush of meadow-filled wind, the green candle went out, and my best friend died.
My friend died. (Astrid) Died how? (Zarek) Mmm, he had parvo. (Astrid) Isn’t that a dog’s disease? (Zarek) Yes. It was tragic. (Astrid) Hey! I resent that. (Sasha) Behave or I will give you parvo. (Astrid)
A certain ultra-dignified gentleman of unusual prominence carried himself so stiffly that nobody felt free to call him by his first name. He quarreled with a friend of earlier days and from then on the two never spoke. The day the friend died an associate found the ultra-dignified gentleman staring through the window. When he came out of his reverie, he soliloquized with a sigh, ""He was the last to call me John."" Is any man really entitled to regard himself a success who has failed to inspire at least a goodly number of fellow mortals to greet him by his first name?
My life in Greece influenced what I am. My father was in the left because he was against the king and his family, who had created a war against the Turks at the beginning of the last century to revive the Byzantine Empire. For three years, there was fighting, and all my father's friends died. So he hated the royal family.
The bad guys, when they start getting picked off, they're upset that their friends died, too. But that's the thing. That's what life is. It's that weird gray area.
or simply:
