I hate to say this, but I'll repeat it: After death, all we know that you do is stink.

There's stuff I don't like to rehearse, really emotional things, I don't like to rehearse. You just beat it to death.

I'm trying to knock the medical profession into accepting its responsibilities, and those responsibilities include assisting their patients with death.

Nobody with an IQ higher than emergency-room temperature could ever believe that 'death panels' would be appointed to nudge the elderly toward euthanasia. Yet for idle entertainment, it's hard to beat Sarah Palin's ignorant nattering on the subject.

The miser, starving his brother's body, starves also his own soul, and at death shall creep out of his great estate of injustice, poor and naked and miserable.

I'm not supposed to be able to speak clearly, and decipher what's going on in the media. I'm supposed to be the typical amateur who's 22 and scared to death and can't believe he won the Olympics.

I stay way from that area, and there's only so many songs you can write about love, sex and death.

My death will be caused by morphine, which I have deliberately taken with suicidal intent.

A Shakespearean tragedy as so far considered may be called a story of exceptional calamity leading to the death of a man in high estate. But it is clearly much more than this, and we have now to regard it from another side.

The American people are not just being taxed to death they're being taxed after death. But, no one should have to sell the life's work of a parent or a loved one just to pay the federal government.