If I must die I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms.

It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.

This fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest.

We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

... what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us.

Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.

How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother sleep!

Peace, Peace! He is not dead, he doth not sleep-He hath awakened from the dream of life.

If we were to live here always, with no other care than how to feed, clothe, and house ourselves, life would be a very sorry business. It is immeasurably heightened by the solemnity of death.

I cannot forgive my friends for dying; I do not find these vanishing acts of theirs at all amusing.