I am now about to enter on my normal condition. For people are almost always in their graves. When we survey the long race of men, it is strange and still more strange to find that they are mainly dead men, who have scarcely ever been otherwise.

Most people go to their grave with their music inside them.

Dreaming men are haunted men.

How prudently most men creep into nameless graves, while now and then one or two forget themselves into immortality.

These are but dreaming men. Breathe, and they fade.

It is said that men may not be the dreams of the god, but rather that the gods are the dreams of men.

The memory of most men is an abandoned cemetery where lie, unsung and unhonored, the dead whom they have ceased to cherish. Any lasting grief is reproof to their neglect.

In death - no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound slumbers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed.

The luckiest men die worthwhile deaths

Most men die at 27, we just bury them at 72

Dreams last so long, even after you're gone

All these men with their corpse-like faces, in front of us and behind, driven to exhaustion, emptied of words and will....All these men laden with earth, who, you could say, are carrying their own graves...

Keep alive the dream; for as long as a man has a dream in his heart, he cannot lose the significance of living.

Men passionately desire to live after death, but they often pass away without noticing the fact that the memory of a really good person always lives. It is impressed upon the next generation, and is transmitted again to the children. Is that not an immortality worth striving for?