But when I lose my temper, I find it difficult to forgive myself. I feel I've failed. I can be calm in a crisis, in the face of death or things that hurt badly. I don't get hysterical, which may be masochistic of me.

Life is but a moment, death also is but another.

Death unites as well as separates it silences all paltry feeling.

Death not merely ends life, it also bestows upon it a silent completeness, snatched from the hazardous flux to which all things human are subject.

A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.

All violence consists in some people forcing others, under threat of suffering or death, to do what they do not want to do.

I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.

Man is born in a day, and he dies in a day, and the thing is easily over but to have a sick heart for three-fourths of one's lifetime is simply to have death renewed every morning and life at that price is not worth living.

It is difficult to accept death in this society because it is unfamiliar. In spite of the fact that it happens all the time, we never see it.

Death is just life's next big adventure.