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Death may be the King of terrors… but Jesus is the King of kings!
Death would not be called bad, O people, if one knew how to truly die.
Old age is a tyrant, who forbids, under pain of death, the pleasures of youth.
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.
Since change is constant, you wonder if people crave death because it’s the only way they can get anything really finished.
In every parting there is an image of death.
It is easy to go down into Hell night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide but to climb back again, to retrace one’s steps to the upper air – there’s the rub, the task.
When death comes it is never our tenderness that we repent from, but our severity.
And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
There are, as is known, insects that die in the moment of fertilization. So it is with all joy: life’s highest, most splendid moment of enjoyment is accompanied by death.