How people die remains in the memory of those who live on.

Grief is the price we pay for love.

After all, whats a life, anyway, We are born, we live a little while, we die.

It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time.

Death, they say, acquits us of all obligations.

Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all.

No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.

They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time.

Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But theres a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.

The goal of all life is death.

Death is something inevitable. When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.

Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.

The truth I have been seeking this truth is Death. Yet Death is also a seeker. Forever seeking me. So we have met at last. And I am prepared. I am at peace.

Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them.

It is natural to die as to be born.