Neither the sun nor death can be looked at with a steady eye.

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.

Death is someone you see very clearly with eyes in the center of your heart: eyes that see not by reacting to light, but by reacting to a kind of a chill from within the marrow of your own life.

Land and sea, weakness and decline are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever.

For a man who has done his natural duty, death is as natural as sleep.