Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Death comes for us all. Even for kings he comes.
The tragedy of life is in what dies inside a man while he lives - the death of genuine feeling, the death of inspired response, the awareness that makes it possible to feel the pain or the glory of other men in yourself.
Death is an endless night so awful to contemplate that it can make us love life and value it with such passion that it may be the ultimate cause of all joy and all art.
To me, death is dark, pain, grief.
Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings.
Death is the great hope of all life; the desire to expend itself; to be used and consumed by its own longing for itself.
Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all.
Today we bury his remains in the earth as a seed of immortality. Our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude.
Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light.
The poet does not fear death, not because he believes in the fantasy of heroes, but because death constantly visits his thoughts and is thus an image of a serene dialogue.
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