Yet all things must die.
The stream will cease to flow;
The wind will cease to blow;
The clouds will cease to fleet;
The heart will cease to beat;
For all things must die.
All things must die.

Everyone owes nature a death.

All who are born are always dying.

Every poem should remind the reader that they are going to die.

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.

Death, thou shalt die.

Always knowing you're going to die
And until then knowing you've got to live.

All things must pass.

All mankind’s institutions, of every sort,
have their own death, though in what long endures
it is hidden from you, your own lives being short.
[XVI:79-81]

Life is a constant process of dying.

That we must all die, we always knew; I wish I had remembered it sooner.

Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death - and we are death.

Death has set his mark and seal
On all we are and all we feel,
On all we know and all we fear,

First our pleasures die - and then
Our hopes, and then our fears - and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust - and we die too.

All things that we love and cherish,
Like ourselves must fade and perish;
Such is our rude mortal lot -
Love itself would, did they not.

And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust.

I'm writing this book because we're all going to die.