I am going to die. Not in the goth existential way of overwrought poetry, all, “I stood upon the stage of life and saw Death, my dark-eyed lover, flipping me the bird from the back row,” but in the very literal sense that something’s going to happen to make his heart stop beating in, oh, say the next five minutes.

I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.

My life will end someday, but it will end at my convenience.

I shall soon be quite dead at last in spite of all.

"But soon," he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pyre triumphantly, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell."

The fact is that five years ago I was, as near as possible, a different person to what I am tonight. I, as I am now, didn't exist at all. Will the same thing happen in the next five years? I hope so.

Everybody going to be dead one day, just give them time.

Like everyone else, I am going to die. But the words - the words live on for as long as there are readers to see them, audiences to hear them. It is immortality by proxy. It is not really a bad deal, all things considered.

But soon, I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct.

When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens,I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.

And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.

I shall die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me, or be the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who called me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or stars, or feel the winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense, will pass away; and in this condition must I find my happiness.

I can . . . die as I please.

You too are going to die, and that's because you too were fortunate enough to have lived. You may not feel this. But go stand on a cliff sometime, and maybe you will.