The art of dying graciously is nowhere advertised, in spite of the fact that its market potential is great.

I never had a dog that showed a human fear of death. Death, to a dog, is the final unavoidable compulsion, the least ineluctable scent on a fearsome trail, but they like to face it alone, going out into the woods, among the leaves, if there are any leaves when their time comes, enduring without sentimental human distraction the Last Loneliness, which they are wise enough to know cannot be shared by anyone.

Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death be like autumn leaves.

What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.

Is that all it is?

George Gershwin died yesterday, but I don't have to believe it if I don't want to.

A man's dying is more the survivors' affair than his own.

His death was the first time that Ed Wynn ever made anyone sad.

Say not 'Good-night' but in some brighter clime, bid me 'Good-morning.'

I'm always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I'm listening to it.