Death is a supple suitor, that wins at last. It is a stealthy wooing; conducted first by pallid innuendos and dim approach, but brave at last with bugles.
100 per cent of us die, and the percentage cannot be increased.
One can no more look steadily at death than at the sun.
But when the dust has drunk the blood of men, no resurrection comes for one who's dead.
Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be Defence enough against Mortality
Life is first boredom, then fear. Whether or not we use it, it goes, And leaves what something hidden from us chose, And age, and then the only end of age.
There are two things which Man cannot look at directly without flinching: the sun and death.
