If life must not be taken too seriously -- then so neither must death.
The dead should be judged like criminals, impartially, but they should be allowed the benefit of the doubt.
There is nothing which at once affects a man so much and so little as his own death.
To die is but to leave off dying and do the thing once for all.
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, and yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast. And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest.
I have seen a thousand graves opened, and always perceived that whatever was gone, the teeth and hair remained of those who had died with them. Is not this odd? They go the very first things in youth and yet last the longest in the dust.
Men are convinced of your arguments, your sincerity, and the seriousness of your efforts only by your death.
Men are never really willing to die except for the sake of freedom: therefore they do not believe in dying completely.
There will be no lasting peace either in the heart of individuals or in social customs until death is outlawed.
He who is obsessed by death is made guilty by it.
Author: Elias Canetti (1905)
Profession: Austrian Novelist, Philosopher
For days after death hair and fingernails continue to grow, but phone calls taper off.
Author: Johnny Carson (1925)
Profession: American TV Personality, Businessman
I look upon life as a gift from God. I did nothing to earn it. Now that the time is coming to give it back, I have no right to complain.
Author: Joyce Cary (1888-1957)
Profession: British Author
Along with the lazy man... the dying man is the immoral man: the former, a subject that does not work; the latter, an object that no longer even makes itself available to be worked on by others.
Author: Michel De Certeau
Profession: French Writer
Death eats up all things, both the young lamb and old sheep; and I have heard our parson say, death values a prince no more than a clown; all's fish that comes to his net; he throws at all, and sweeps stakes; he's no mower that takes a nap at noon-day, but drives on, fair weather or foul, and cuts down the green grass as well as the ripe corn: he's neither squeamish nor queesy-stomach d, for he swallows without chewing, and crams down all things into his ungracious maw; and you can see no belly he has, he has a confounded dropsy, and thirsts after men's lives, which he gurgles down like mother's milk.
Author: Miguel De Cervantes (1547-1616)
Profession: Spanish Novelist, Dramatist, Poet