Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.

Yes, as my swift days near their goal, 'tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.

There is not room for Death, / Nor atom that his might could render void: / Thou - Thou art Being and Breath, / And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short , but when we have had our fill of fruit, our swelter of heat, we said that we have had our day.

Life and death are balanced on the edge of a razor.

The idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else; it is a mainspring of human activity - designed largely to avoid the fatality of death, to overcome it by denying in some way that it is the final destiny of man.