Each time we don't say what we wanna say, we're dying.

Life is tough, then you die.

You say you should have died instead of me. But during my time on earth, people died instead of me, too. It happens every day. When lightning strikes a minute after you are gone, or an airplane crashes that you might have been on. When your colleague falls ill and you do not. We think such things are random. But there is a balance to it all. One withers, another grows. Birth and death are part of a whole.

THE MAN: What was it she said, ‘Everything we are denied lives in us, and some day I’ll kill all my life that lives in other things only.’ [He begins to weep softly.] And it’s music will be looking for its song, now she’s dead, and it’s many an eve will come down without color, now she’s no more. Come, let us to the funeral.

The day we see the truth and cease to speak is the day we begin to die

Now I see that if one doesn’t know how to die, one can hardly know how to live — because death is a part of life.

No, no, no... you've got it all wrong... you can't act death. The fact of it is nothing to do with seeing it happen — -it's not gasps and blood and falling about — -that isn't what makes it death. It's just a man failing to reappear, that's all — -now you see him, now you don't, that the only thing that's real: here one minute and gone the next and never coming back — -an exit, unobtrusive and unannounced, a disappearance gathering weight as it goes on, until, finally, it is heavy with death.

Much of the fear of death comes from an intuition that we will be revealed as having avoided encounters with the deep self within us.

Broadcasting weakness by seeking validation is often a death sentence.

A thing there was that mattered; a thing, wreathed about with chatter, defaced, obscured in her own life, let drop every day in corruption, lies, chatter. This he had preserved. Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death.

Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.

Why, yes, the mo­ment you’re born, your death comes in­to the world with you, and it’s your death that takes you out.

Life sucks, and then you die...

So we die before our own eyes; so we see some chapters of our lives come to their natural end.