It is not death, but dying, which is terrible.
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- A lover, when he is admitted to cards, ought to be solemnly silent, and observe the motions of his mistress. He must laugh when she laughs, sigh when she sighs. In short, he should be the shadow of her mind. A lady, in the presence of her lover, should never want a looking-glass; as a beau, in the presence of his looking-glass, never wants a mistress.
- The pomp of death is far more terrible than death itself.
- When the body sinks into death, the essence of man is revealed. Man is a knot, a web, a mesh into which relationships are tied. Only those relationships matter. The body is an old crock that nobody will miss. I have never known a man to think of himself when dying. Never.
- The difficulty about all this dying, is that you can’t tell a fellow anything about it, so where does the fun come in?
- It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time.
- Alas, I am dying beyond my means.