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For certain is death for the bornAnd certain is birth for the dead;Therefore over the inevitableThou shouldst not grieve.
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For death begins with life’s first breath, and life begins at touch of death.
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For death betimes is comfort, not dismay, And who can rightly die needs no delay.
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For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
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For God’s sake let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings! How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed– All murdered; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humored thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence, Throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; For you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Need friends. Subjected thus,
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For if he like a madman lived, At least he like a wise one died.
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For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
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For life is nearer every day to death. [Lat., Nam vita morti propior est quotidie.]
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For one who has been honored, dishonor is worse than death.
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For that which is born death is certain, and for the dead birth is certain. Therefore grieve not over that which is unavoidable.
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For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass’d;And the eyes of the sleepers wax’d deadly and chill,And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
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For the death of the righteous is like the descending of ripe and wholesome fruits from a pleasant and florid tree. Our senses entire, our limbs unbroken, without horrid tortures; after provision made for our children, with a blessing entailed upon posterity, in the presence of our friends, our dearest relatives closing our eyes and binding our feet, leaving a good name behind us.
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For the fear of death is indeed the pretence of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being a pretended knowledge of the unknown; and no one knows whether death, which men in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is there not here conceit of knowledge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance?
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For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling–my darling–my life and my bride, In her sepulcher there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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For thee, O now a silent soul, my brother, Take at my hands this garland and farewell. Thin is the leaf, and chill the wintry smell, And chill the solemn earth, a fatal mother.
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For tho’ from out for bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
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For three days after death hair and fingernails continue to grow but phone calls taper off.
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Fourteen heart attacks and he had to die in my week. In MY week.
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Freeing the World to Death: Essays on the American Empire.
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Friend to the wretch whom every friend forsakes, I woo thee, Death! Life and its joys I leave to those that prize them. Hear me, 0 gracious God! At Thy good time let Death approach; I reck not, let him but come in genuine form, not with Thy vengeance armed, too much for man to bear.
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