Never knock on Death's door. Ring the doorbell and run. Death hates that.
Everybody dies, but not everybody lives.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
We work to stop thinking about sex and worrying about death.
Die when I may, I want it said of me that I plucked a weed and planted a flower where ever I thought a flower would grow.
My favourite piece of information is that Branwell Bronte, brother of Emily and Charlotte, died standing up leaning against a mantelpiece, in order to prove it could be done.
...that's the weird thing about grief. You can't prepare for it. You think you're gonna cry and get it over with. You make those plans, but they never work.
I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page. If my name is not on it, I get up.
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you.
It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It's called living.