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Death rather than disgrace.
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Death reigns in all the portions of our time. The autumn with its fruits provides disorders for us, and the winter’s cold turns them into sharp diseases, and the spring brings flowers to strew our hearse, and the summer gives green turf and brambles to bind upon our graves. Calentures and surfeit, cold and agues, are the four quarters of the year, and all minister to death; and you can go no whither but you tread upon a dead man’s bones.
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Death rides in triumph,–fell destruction Lashes his fiery horse, and round about him His many thousand ways to let out souls.
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Death rides on every passing breeze, He lurks in every flower
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Death robs the rich and relieves the poor.
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Death should not be seen as the end but as a very effective way to cut down expenses.
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Death shuns the naked throat and proffered breast; he flies when called to be a welcome guest.
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Death solves all problems – No man, no problem.
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Death to the Christian is the funeral of all his sorrows and evils, and the resurrection, of all his joys.
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Death tugs at my ear and says: ‘Live, I am coming.’
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Death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon.
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Death without phrases. [Lat., La mort sans phrase.]
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Death wounds to cure: we fall; we rise; we reign! Spring from our fetters; fasten in the skies; Where blooming Eden withers in our sight: Death gives us more than was in Eden lost. This king of terrors is the prince of peace.
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Death! to the happy thou art terrible; But how the wretched love to think of thee, O thou true comforter! the friend of all Who have no friend beside!
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Death, after all, is the common expectation from birth. Neither heroes nor cowards can escape it.
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Death, as the psalmist with, is certain to all; all shall die.
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Death, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee: Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built, One shelter where our spirits fain would be Death, if thou wilt?
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Death, is not an end, but a transition crisis. All the forms of decay are but masks of regeneration–the secret alembics of vitality.
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Death, of all estimated evils, is the only one whose presence never incommoded anybody, and which only causes concern during its absence.
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Death, remembered, should be like a mirror, who tells us life is but a breath; to trust it, error.
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