Peace We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark They could not see Who had gained The victory.
The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.
When death comes, he respects neither age nor merit. He sweeps from the earthly existence the sick and the strong, the rich and the poor, and should teach us to live to be prepared for death.
Even when someone battles hard, there is an equal portion for one who lingers behind, and in the same honor are held both the coward and the brave man; the idle man and he who has done much meet death alike.
Six feet of dirt make all men equal.
All men are free and equal in the grave, if it comes to that.
Wizards die the same as other men, once you cut their heads off.
We can't buy one minute of time with cash; if we could, rich people would live longer.
For all men are equal at the moment of death and who are we to judge them when a much greater judge awaits?
Death puts an end to rivalship and competition. The dead can boast no advantage over us, nor can we triumph over them.
The death rate is the same for us as for anybody ... one person, one death, sooner or later.
All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
Each child’s story is worthy of telling. There shouldn’t be a sliding scale of death. The weight of it is crushing.
