To mourn is to pity oneself. The dead feel nothing. The mourner does not pity the dead. He pities himself for having lost the living.
Walter M. Miller Jr. (1923-1996) American science fiction writer
“The Soul-Empty Ones,” Astounding Science Fiction (1951-08)
(Source)
Quotations about:
death
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
ELECTRA: And let no man committing wicked acts
believe that if he runs the first leg well,
he is defeating justice, not before
he moves across the finish line and ends
the last lap in his life.[ἨΛΈΚΤΡΑ:ὧδέ τις κακοῦργος ὢν
μή μοι τὸ πρῶτον βῆμ᾽ ἐὰν δράμῃ καλῶς,
955νικᾶν δοκείτω τὴν Δίκην, πρὶν ἂν πέλας
γραμμῆς ἵκηται καὶ τέλος κάμψῃ βίου.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Electra [Ἠλέκτρα], l. 954ff (c. 420 BC) [tr. Johnston (2009), l. 1152]
(Source)
Speaking to the corpse of Ægisthus, who slew her father, Agamemnon.
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:Let no villain,
Tho' the first stage of his career he run
With prosperous Fortune, think he hath outstripp'd
Avenging Justice, till he reach the goal,
And end his life.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]Let none suppose, though he have run the first stage of his course with joy, that he will get the better of Justice, till he have reached the goal and ended his career.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]Let not a man, if he run the first course well, think he will win the victory, before he comes nigh the line, and turns the end of life.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]Let none dream, though at starting he run well,
That he outrunneth Justice, ere he touch
The very goal and reach the bourn of life.
[tr. Way (1896)]O vaunt not, if one step be proudly made
In evil, that all Justice is o'ercast:
Vaunt not, ye men of sin, ere at the last
The thin-drawn marge before you glimmereth
Close, and the goal that wheels 'twixt life and death.
[tr. Murray (1905)]So let no evildoer suppose, even if he runs the first step well, that he will get the better of Justice, until he comes to the end of the finish-line and makes the last turn in life.
[tr. Coleridge (1938 ed.)]Let every criminal like him know that just because his first criminal steps went according to his wishes that he has not defeated Justice before his life’s end.
[tr. Theodoridis (2006)]May every criminal
see that he'll never win the race with Justice!
He may run quick at first, but play it out:
run on, right to the finish line of life.
[tr. Wilson (2016)]
That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange eons, even death may die.H. P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) American fabulist [Howard Phillips Lovecraft]
“The Nameless City,” The Wolverine magazine (1921-11)
(Source)
In the story, the "unexplainable couplet" of Abdul Alhazred, "the mad poet," after having dreamed of the titular city. It is babbled later by the narrator after his sojourn into the city and confrontation with the horror there.
Last night I smote the winecup on a stone;
For such mad folly how may I atone?
The shatter’d cup, in mystic language, said,
“I was like thee, my fate shall be thine own.”Omar Khayyám (1048-1123) Persian poet, mathematician, philosopher, astronomer [عمر خیام]
Rubáiyát [رباعیات], Bod. # 146 [tr. Talbot (1908)]
(Source)
Alternate translations:Last night I dashed my clay cup on the stone,
And at the reckless freak my heart was glad,
When with a voice for the moment out spake the cup,
"I was once as thou and thou shalt be as I!"
[tr. Cowell (1858), # 29]Last eve I broke against a stone an earthen cup, drunk in the doing of the foolish deed. Methought the cup protested unto me "I was like thee, thou wilt be like to me."
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 395]Last night I dashed my cup against a stone.
In a mad drunken freak, as I must own,
And lo! the cup cries out in agony,
"You too, like me, shall soon be overthrown."
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 446]I smote the glass wine cup upon a stone last night,
my head was turned that I did so base a thing;
the cup said to me in mystic language,
"I was like thee, and thou also wilt be like me."
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 146]Last night the cup I dashed against a stone.
Base was the act, my head with wine was flown.
The cup cried out to me in mystic tone,
"I was like thee, my case will be thine own."
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 554]Against the stone, last night, I flung the wine-bowl of
faience. I was drunk when I did that brutal action.
The bowl said to me in the language of bowls: "I was
what thou art, thou also shall be what I am."
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 36]Yesterday I knocked my earthenware wine-jug against a stone.
I must have been inebriated to have committed such an offence.
It seemed as if the jug thus spoke to me:
"I have been as thou and thou wilt be as I".
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 299]In frolic once on stone I dashed a pot,
Alas! such wanton freaks come from a sot;
The pot then told me as if in a trance:
"Like thee I was, like me now find thy lot."
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 5.31]When foolishly I dashed my bowl against a stone,
It answered sadly in a voice how like my own:
"I once was proudly filled with wine as full as thou:
So, broken in the dust, thou'lt lie as I do now."
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 34]Last night I dashed (my) pottery bowl against the stones; I was intoxicated, when I committed this folly. It was as if the bowl spoke to me, "I was even such a one as thou, and thou too shalt (someday) be even as I."
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 34, literal]
In the great debate that has raged for centuries about what, if anything, happens to you after death, be it heaven, hell, purgatory or extinction, one thing has never been in doubt — that you would at least know the answer when you were dead.
Gordon Way was dead, but he simply hadn’t the slightest idea what he was meant to do about it. It wasn’t a situation he had encountered before.Douglas Adams (1952-2001) English writer
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, ch. 9 (1987)
(Source)
Experiense iz a good teacher, but she iz a dredphull slo one, before we git haff thru her lessons, the bell rings, and we are summoned to judgement.
[Experience is a good teacher, but she is a dreadful slow one; before we get half through her lessons, the bell rings, and we are summoned to judgement.]
Josh Billings (1818-1885) American humorist, aphorist [pseud. of Henry Wheeler Shaw]
Josh Billings’ Trump Kards, ch. 6 “Pets” (1874)
(Source)
Certainlie these things agree,
The Priest, the Lawyer, and Death all three:
Death takes both the weak and the strong.
The lawyer takes from both right and wrong,
And the priest from living and dead has his Fee.Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) American statesman, scientist, philosopher, aphorist
Poor Richard (1737 ed.)
(Source)
Across wide lands, across a wider sea,
To this sad service. Brother, am I bourn
To pay thee death’s last tribute and to mourn
By thy dead dust that cannot answer me.
This, this alone is left — ah, can it be
Thy living self blind chance from me has torn.
That cruel death has left me thus forlorn.
And thou so loved, dear Brother, lost to me?
Still, must I bring, as men have done for years,
These last despairing rites, this solemn vow.
Here offered with a love too deep to tell,
And consecrated with a brother’s tears.
Accept them, Brother all is done — and now
Forever hail, forever fare thee well.[Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus
Advenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,
Ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
Et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem.
Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum,
Heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi,
Nunc tamen interea haec prisco quae more parentum
Tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias,
Accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu,
Atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 101 “At His Brother’s Grave” [tr. Stewart (1915)]
(Source)
This is one of several poems he wrote about his beloved brother, written while journeying home from Bithynia after serving under C. Memmius Gemellus, praetor of that province. Catullus stopped on the way in the Troad, at the grave of his brother, who had recently drowned.
The poem is in elegiac couplets, usually reserved for romantic poems.
The phrase "ave atque vale" ("hail and farewell") is one of the most famous from Catullus.(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Thro' various realms, o'er various seas I come,
To see that each due sacrifice be paid,
To bring my last sad off'ring to thy tomb,
And thy mute dust invoke, fraternal shad!
Yes, hapless brother! since the hand of fate
Hath snatch'd thee ever from my longing sight;
As us'd our ancestors, in solemn state
I'll bring each mystic gift, each fun'ral rite:
With many a tear I will the ground bedew --
Spirit of him I lov'd, those tears receive!
Spirit of him I valued most, adieu!
Adieu to him who sleeps in yonder grave!
[tr. Nott (1795), # 96]Brother, I come o'er many seas and lands
To the sad rite which pious love ordains,
To pay thee the last gift that death demands;
And oft, though vain, invoke thy mute remains:
Since death has ravish'd half myself in thee,
Oh wretched brother, sadly torn from me!
And now ere fate our souls shall re-unite,
To give me back all it hath snatch'd away,
Receive the gifts, our fathers' ancient rite
To shades departed still was wont to pay;
Gifts wet with tears of heartfelt grief that tell,
And ever, brother, bless thee, and farewell!
[tr. Lamb (1821)]O'er many a sea, o'er many a stranger land,
I bring this tribute to thy lonely tomb,
My brother! and beside the narrow room,
That holds thy silent ashes weeping stand.
Vainly I call to thee. Who can command
An answer forth from Orcus' dreary gloom?
Oh, brother, brother, life lost all its bloom,
When thou wert snatch'd from me with pitiless hand!
A day will come, when we shall meet once more!
Meanwhile, these gifts, which to the honour'd grave
Of those they loved in life our sires of yore
With pious hand and reverential gave,
Accept! Gifts moisten'd with a brother's tears!
And now, farewell, and rest thee from all fears !
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]Brother! o'er many lands and oceans borne,
I reach thy grave, death's last sad rite to pay;
To call thy silent dust in vain, and mourn,
Since ruthless fate has hurried thee away:
Woe 's me! yet now upon thy tomb I lay,
All soak'd with tears for thee, thee loved so well,
What gifts our fathers gave the honour' d clay
Of valued friends; take them, my grief they tell:
And now, for ever hail! for ever fare-thee-well!
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]Borne over many a land and many a sea,
Brother! I reach thy gloom-wrapt grave to pay
The last sad office thou may'st claim from me,
And all in vain address thy silent clay:
For thou art gone -- fell fate that from me tore
Thee, thee, my brother! ah, too cruel thought!
I'll call thee, but I'll never hear thee more
Recount the deeds thy valiant arm hath wrought.
And I shall never see thy face again,
Dearer than life; yet in my heart alway
Assuredly shall fond affection reign,
And aye with grief's wan hues I'll tinge my lay:
Yea, even as the Daulian bird her song
Outpours in accents sweetly-dolorous,
When o'er the branch-gloom'd river, all night long,
She wails the fate of perish'd Itylus.
Yet now what gifts our sires in ancient years
Paid those with whom in life they loved to dwell,
Accept: -- all streaming with thy brother's tears;
And, brother! hail for aye! for aye farewell!
[tr. Cranstoun (1867), "from the text of Schwabe"]Borne o'er many a land, o'er many a level of ocean,
Here to the grave I come, brother, of holy repose,
Sadly the last poor gifts, death's simple duty, to bring thee;
Unto the silent dust vainly to murmur a cry.
Since thy form deep-shrouded an evil destiny taketh
From me, O hapless ghost, brother, O heavily ta'en,
Yet this bounty the while, these gifts ancestral of usance
Homely, the sad slight store piety grants to the tomb;
Drench'd in a brother's tears, and weeping freshly, receive them;
Yea, take, brother, a long Ave, a timeless adieu.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]Through many a land, o'er many a sea I come,
To sacrifice, dear brother, at thy tomb;
With these last rites to drop the unheeded tear,
And call that name thou canst no longer hear.
By oh ! my brother, since by fate's decree,
Alas ! too early, thou wast torn from me.
Accept this offering to thy honoured shade,
By custom sanctioned -- by affection paid:
And while these frequent tears my sorrow tell.
Take, dearest brother, this my last farewell.
[tr. Bliss (1872)]Through many lands and over many seas
I come, my Brother, to thine obsequies,
To pay thee the last honours that remain,
And call upon thy voiceless dust, in vain.
Since cruel fate has robbed me even of thee,
Unhappy Brother, snatched away from me,
Now none the less the gifts our fathers gave,
The melancholy honours of the grave,
Wet with my tears I bring to thee, and say
Farewell! farewell! for ever and a day.
[tr. Murray (1891)]Faring thro' many a folk and plowing many a sea-plain
These sad funeral-rites (Brother!) to deal thee I come,
So wi' the latest boons to the dead bestowed I may gift thee,
And I may vainly address ashes that answer have none,
Sithence of thee, very thee, to deprive me Fortune behested,
Woe for thee, Brother forlore! Cruelly severed fro' me.
...
Yet in the meanwhile now what olden usage of forbears
Brings as the boons that befit mournfullest funeral rites,
Thine be these gifts which flow with tear-flood shed by thy brother,
And, for ever and aye (Brother!) all hail and farewell.
[tr. Burton (1893)]Through many nations and through many seas borne, I come, brother, for these sad funeral rites, that I may give the last gifts to the dead, and may vainly speak to your silent ashes, since fortune has taken yourself away from me. Ah, poor brother, undeservedly snatched from me. But now receive these gifts, which have been handed down in the ancient manner of ancestors, the sad gifts to the grave, drenched with a brother's tears, and for ever, brother, hail and farewell.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]By ways remote and distant waters sped,
Brother, to thy sad grave-side am I come,
That I may give the last gifts to the dead,
And vainly parley with thine ashes dumb:
Since she who now bestows and now denies
Hath ta'en thee, hapless brother, from mine eyes.
But lo! these gifts, the heirlooms of past years,
Are made sad things to grace thy coffin shell;
Take them, all drenched with a brother's tears,
And, brother, for all time, hail and farewell!
[tr. Beardsley (1896)]Homewards, a traveller, from many lands returning,
I greet thee, brother, only at thy grave.
To thy dumb ashes telling o'er, in accents burning,
Those rites, 'tis said, departed spirits crave.
All that I can -- with tears -- the words our fathers taught us --
Which borne afar, like sound of sea-rocked bell.
Perchance may reach thee on those sad and lonely waters,
Longed for, though late -- a brother's last farewell.
[tr. Harman (1897)]Wandering through many countries and over many seas I come, my brother, to these sorrowful obsequies, to present you with the last guerdon of death, and speak, though in vain, to your silent ashes, since fortune has taken your own self away from me -- alas, my brother, so cruelly torn from me! Yet now meanwhile take these offerings, which by the custom of our fathers have been handed down -- a sorrowful tribute -- for a funeral sacrifice; take them, wet with many tears of a brother, and for ever, my brother, hail and farewell!
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904); 1913 Loeb edition the same]Borne over many lands and many seas, I come, O my brother, to the sad spot where you repose; that I may render to you the last sad rites of the dead, and call, although in vain, to your dumb ashes. Since fate has snatched your dear presence from my eyes, alas, O my brother, so cruelly taken from me, yet receive these last sad rites, that are according to the pious usages of our forefathers and are washed with a brother's many tears, and now for ever, O my brother, hail and farewell!
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]Travelled o'er many a land and o'er the seas
Hither I come to thy sad obsequies,
To pay thee, brother mine, death's farewell due,
And vainly bid thy silent dust adieu.
Since fate has torn thy living self away,
(Woe, brother, snatched from me, alack aday!)
Take, as our fathers used, till better things,
From me these sad time-honoured offerings
Wet with a brother's tears. And so, for aye,
I greet thee, brother, and I bid good-bye.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]By many lands and over many a wave
I come, my brother, to your piteous grave,
To bring you the last offering in death
And o'er dumb dust expend an idle breath.
Yet take these gifts, brought as our fathers bade
For sorrow's tribute to the passing shade;
A brother's tears have wet them o'er and o'er;
And so, my brother, hail, and farewell evermore!
[tr. Marris (1924)]From land to land, o'er many waters borne,
Brother, I come to these thy rites forlorn,
The latest gift, the due of death, to pay,
The fruitless word to silent dust to say.
Since death has reft thy living self from me,
Poor brother, stolen away so cruelly,
Yet this the while, which ancient use decrees
Sad ritual of our sires for obsequies,
Take, streaming with a brother's tears that tell
Of a last greeting, brother, a last farewell.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]O'er many a land, o'er many waters led,
Brother, my path to thy sad tomb is made,
That I may give the last gifts to the dead
And vainly parley with thy silent shade;
Since the blind goddess to the realm of night
Hath stol'n thee, hapless brother, from my sight.
So now these gifts, by custom of past years,
I bring as offerings to thy funeral cell;
Take them, all moistened with a brother's tears,
And brother, for all time, hail and farewell.
[tr. Wright (1926)]Dear brother, I have come these many miles, through strange lands to this Eastern Continent
to see your grave, a poor sad monument of what you were, 0 brother.
And I have come too late; you cannot hear me; alone now I must speak
to these few ashes that were once your body and expect no answer.
I shall perform an ancient ritual over your remains, weeping,
(this plate of lentils for dead men to feast upon, wet with my tears)
O brother, here's my greeting: here's my hand forever welcoming you
and I forever saying: good-bye, good-bye.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]Driven across many nations, across many oceans,
I am here, my brother, for this final parting,
to offer at last those gifts which the dead are given
and to speak in vain to your unspeaking ashes,
since bitter fortune forbids you to hear me or answer,
O my wretched brother, so abruptly taken!
But now I must celebrate grief with funeral tributes
offered the dead in the ancient way of the fathers;
accept these presents, wet with my brotherly tears, and
now & forever, my brother, hail & farewell.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]Carried over many seas, and through many nations,
brother, I come to these sad funeral rites,
to grant you the last gifts to the dead,
and speak in vain to your mute ashes.
Seeing that fate has stolen from me your very self.
Ah alas, my brother, taken shamefully from me,
yet, by the ancient custom of our parents,
receive these sad gifts, offerings to the dead,
soaked deeply with a brother’s tears,
and for eternity, brother: ‘Hail and Farewell!’
[tr. Kline (2001)]A journey across many seas and through many nations
has brought me here, brother, for these poor obsequies,
to let me address, all in vain, your silent ashes,
and render you the last service for the dead,
since fortune, alas, has bereft me of your person,
my poor brother, so unjustly taken from me.
Still, here now I offer those gifts which by ancestral custom
are presented, sad offerings, at such obsequies:
accept them, soaked as they are with a brother’s weeping,
and, brother, forever now hail and farewell.
[tr. Green (2005)]Carried through many nations and many seas,
I arrive, Brother, at these miserable funeral rites,
So that I might bestow you with the final gift of death
And might speak in vain to the silent ash.
Since Fortune has stolen you yourself from me,
Alas, wretched brother stolen undeservedly from me,
Meanwhile, however, receive now these flowing with much
Brotherly weeping, these which in the ancient custom
Of our parents were handed down as a sad gift for funeral rites,
And forever, Brother, hail and farewell.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017); Wikisource (2021)]Drawn across many nations and seas
I come to your pitiful resting place, brother
To present you with a final gift at death
And to try to pointlessly comfort mute ash --
because chance has stolen you away from me.
My sad brother, unfairly taken from me.
For now, accept this, the ancient custom of our ancestors
Handed down as the sad gift for the grave,
Given with a flowing flood of fraternal tears
And forever, my brother, hail and farewell.
[tr. Grenadier (2021)]Through many nations and across many seas
I’ve come, my brother, for these sad burial rites --
To pay you the final tribute owed the dead,
And to speak, in vain, with your speechless ashes,
Since fortune has snatched you -- you! -- away from me.
Oh! My poor brother, cruelly taken from me!
Still, there’s the matter of the burial rites,
Preserved in antique customs of our line
And passed on in the melancholic tribute:
Receive them, though quite wet with fraternal tears.
And now, for all time, my brother,
I salute you and say goodbye.
[tr. Benn (2021)]
Of lingering and gain-seeking make an end;
Think, while there’s time, how soon Death’s pyre may blaze;
And some brief folly mix with prudent ways:
At the fit hour ’tis sweet to unbend.[Verum pone moras et studium lucri
nigrorumque memor, dum licet, ignium
misce stultitiam consiliis brevem:
dulce est desipere in loco.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 12, l. 25ff (4.12.25-28) (13 BC) [tr. Marshall (1908)]
(Source)
Usually subtitled by translators "To Virgil" or "Invitation to Virgil." There has been great controversy amongst scholars whether the Virgil mentioned in the ode refers to the famous poet who composed the Aeneid, among other works. The two knew each other, but that Virgil died in 19 BC. Some suggest this was an older poem of Horace's, finished and inserted into this later, final volume by him.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Think Life is short, forget thy fears,
And eager thoughts of Gain,
Short Folly mix with graver Cares,
'Tis decent sometimes to be vain.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Come, quit those covetous thoughts, those knitted brows,
Think on the last black embers, while you may,
And be for once unwise. When time allows,
'Tis sweet the fool to play.
[tr. Conington (1872)]But lay aside delay, and the desire of gain; and, mindful of the gloomy [funeral] flames, intermix, while you may, your grave studies with a little light gayety: it is delightful to give a loose on a proper occasion.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]To the winds with base lucre and pale melancholy ! --
In the flames of the pyre these, alas! will be vain,
Mix your sage ruminations with glimpses of folly, --
'T is delightful at times to be somewhat insane!
[tr. Martin (1864)]But put aside delays and care of gain,
Warned, while yet time, by the dark death-fires; mix
With thought brief thoughtlessness; to be unwise
In time and place is sweet.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Then lay aside delays, pursuit of gain, and, mindful fo the funeral pyre, intermix, while it is permitted, a temporary foolishness with thy worldly plans. There is pleasure in indulging in folly on special occasions.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Quick! ere the lurid death-fire's day,
Drive thou the lust of gain away!
Thy wisdom with unwisdom grace:
'Tis well to rave, in time and place.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Come! a truce to delay, and the desire of gain!
And, all mindful, in time, of the dark fun'ral fires.
Mingle with your grave plans some little folly's fling,
Sweet is folly at fitting times.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Mingle a little folly with your wisdom; a little nonsense now and then is pleasant.
[Source (1908)]But put aside delay and thirst for gain, and, mindful of Death’s dark fires, mingle, while thou mayst, brief folly with thy wisdom. ’Tis sweet at the fitting time to cast serious thoughts aside.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912), "The Delights of Spring"]Quick, quit your usury. Time is fleet.
Think, while you may, of funeral flames,
And blend brief folly with your aims;
Folly, in folly's hour, is sweet.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Then come at once and pause for breath
In chasing wealth. Remembering death
And death's dark fires, mix, while you may,
Method and madness, work and play.
Folly is sweet, well-timed.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Don’t linger, don’t stop to be sensible,
Let a little folly mix with your wisdom,
Be aware of death’s dark fires:
Frivolity is sweet, in season.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]And, heedful of death's black fire, consent for a while
To mix a little pleasure in with your prudence.
It's right to be foolish when the time is right.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Be mindful, while you may,
of black-smoked funeral pyres
and blend a bit of folly with your wisdom.
O it is sweet at the proper time
to play the fool!
[tr. Alexander (1999)]But abolish delay, and desire for profit,
and, remembering death’s sombre flames, while you can,
mix a little brief foolishness with your wisdom:
it’s sweet sometimes to play the fool.
[tr. Kline (2015), "Spring"]
Roald Dahl had Willy Wonka use the thematically similar line "A little nonsense now and then / Is relished by the wisest men" in both his screenplay for the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) and in the book Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. For more information in this variant and its possible origins, see Quote Origin: A Little Nonsense Now and Then is Relished by the Wisest Men – Quote Investigator®.
Those who go forth to the battle never return without holes in their ranks, like gaping wounds. Pity of all pities that those who lead never learn, and the few wise men among those who follow never quite avail to teach. But faith given and allegiance pledged are stronger than fear, thought Cadfael, and that, perhaps, is virtue, even in the teeth of death. Death, after all, is the common expectation from birth. Neither heroes nor cowards can escape it.
Ellis Peters (1913-1995) English writer, translator [pseud. of Edith Mary Pargeter, who also wrote under the names John Redfern, Jolyon Carr, Peter Benedict]
Dead Man’s Ransom, ch. 1 (1984)
(Source)
On return of Shrewsbury's troops after fighting battles for King Stephen against the Earls of Chester and Lincoln.
Tragedy in the theater has the great moral inconvenience of putting too much importance in life and death.
[Le Théâtre tragique a le grand inconvénient moral de mettre trop d’importance à la vie et à la mort.]
Nicolas Chamfort (1741-1794) French writer, epigrammist (b. Nicolas-Sébastien Roch)
Products of Perfected Civilization [Produits de la Civilisation Perfectionée], Part 1 “Maxims and Thoughts [Maximes et Pensées],” ch. 1, ¶ 79 (1795) [tr. Siniscalchi (1994)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:The tragic drama has the great moral drawback of attaching too high an importance to life and death.
[tr. Hutchinson (1902), "The Cynic's Breviary"]There is one great objection to the tragic Drama, it attaches too importance to life and death.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]Tragic drama has the great moral disadvantage of attaching too much importance to life and death.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]The tragic theatre suffers from the great moral disadvantage of attaching too much importance to life and death.
[tr. Pearson (1973)]Tragic drama has the great ethical flaw of attaching too much importance to life and death.
[tr. Dusinberre (1992)]Tragedies suffer from the moral defect of attaching too great an importance to life and death.
[tr. Parmée (2003), ¶66]
If any solace, any joy may fall,
Calvus, to silent sepulchres through tears,
When the lost love regretful we recall
And weep the parted friend of early years,
Then, sure, Quintilia is not wholly sad,
Untimely lost: your love has made her glad.[Si quicquam mutis gratum acceptumve sepulcris
accidere a nostro, Calve, dolore potest,
quo desiderio veteres renovamus amores
atque olim junctas flemus amicitias,
certe non tanto mors immatura dolori est
Quintiliae, quantum gaudet amore tuo.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 96 [tr. MacNaghten (1925), “On the Death of Quintilia, Wife of Calvus”]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:If ever to the dumb, sepulcrhal urn
The tribute of a tear could grateful prove;
What timne each recollected scene we mourn,
Each deed of ancient friendship, and of love:
Less sure, fond youth, must thy Quintilia grieve
That she by death's cold hand untimely fell;
Than joys her parted spirit to perceive
How much her Calvus lov'd her, and how well!
[tr. Nott (1795), # 91 "To Calvus, on Quintilia]Calvus, if any joy from mortal tears
Can touch the feelings of the silent dead;
When dwells regret on loves of former years,
Or weeps o'er friendships that have long been fled,
Oh! then far less will be Quintilia's woe
At early death and fate's severe decree,
Than the pure pleasure she will feel to know
How well, how truly she was loved by thee!
[tr. Lamb (1821), # 90 "To Calvus, on the Death of Quintilia"]Calvus, if those now silent in the tomb
Can feel the touch of pleasure in our tears,
For those we loved, who perished in their bloom,
And the departed friends of former years;
Oh, then, full surely thy Quinctilia's woe,
For the untimely fate that bade ye part,
Will fade before the bliss she feels ot know,
How every dear she is unto thy heart!
[tr. T. Martin (1861), "To Calvus"]Calvus! if from our grief aught can accrue
The silent dead to solace or to cheer,
When fond regret broods o'er old loves anew,
And o'er lost friendships sheds the bitter tear
Oh ! then her grief at death's untimely blow
To thy Quintilia; far, far less must prove
Than the pure joy her soul must feel, to know
Thy true, unchanging, ever-during love.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867), "To Calvus, on teh Death of Quintilia"]If to the silent dead aught sweet or tender ariseth,
Calvus, of our dim grief's common humanity born;
When to a love long cold some pensive pity recalls us,
When for a friend long lost wakes some unhappy regret;
Not so deeply, be sure, Quintilia's early departing
Grieves her, as in thy love dureth a plenary joy.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]If to the dumb deaf tomb can aught or grateful or pleasing
(Calvus!) ever accrue rising from out of our dule,
Wherewith yearning desire renews our loves in the bygone,
And for long friendships lost many a tear must be shed;
Certès, never so much for doom of premature death-day
Must thy Quintilia mourn as she is joyed by thy love.
[tr. Burton (1893) "To Calvus anent Dead Quintilia"]Calvus, if anything pleasing or welcome from our grief can have an effect on silent graves, then with its longing we renew old loves and weep friendships once lost, surely Quintilia does not mourn her premature death as much as she rejoices in your love.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]If living sorrows any boon
Unto the silent grave can give,
When sad remembrances revive
Old loves and friendships fugitive,
She sorrows less she died so soon
Than joys your love is still alive.
[tr. Symons (c. 1900)]If the silent grave can receive any pleasure, or sweetness at all from our grief, Calvus, the grief and regret with which we renew our old loves, and weep for long lost friendships, surely Quintilia feels less sorrow for her too early death, than pleasure from your love.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]If our grief, Calvus, can give any pleasure or consolation to the buried dead, and the yearning with which we re-enkindle old loves, and weep lost friends; then surely Quintilia; must feel less sorrow for her untimely end than joy in your love
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]If the silent grave can receive any pleasure, or sweetness at all from our grief, Calvus, the grief and regret with which we make our old loves live again, and weep for long-lost friendships, surely Quintilia feels less sorrow for her too early death, than pleasure from your love.
[tr. Warre Cornish (Loeb) (1913)]If into the silent tomb can steal
Some tenderness, some thought devine,
If aught from this life the dead can feel,
Then, Calvus, be this solace thine.
When we mourn old friends with longing heart;
For dear dead loves in anguish cry,
Oh, there, do they feel the hot tears start,
Touched by a love that cannot die?
If this be, Calvus, thy sweet girl wife.
There in the tomb shall less grief know
For her spring time lost, her broken life,
Than joy in thy love that loved her so.
[tr. Stewart (1915)]If yearning grief can pierce the tomb,
Reach silent souls and cheer their gloom,
When, Calvus, we lost loves regret,
And mourn the dear we ne'er forget,
Quintilia'll cease her death to rue,
For joy she's proved your love so true.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923), "To Calvus on Quintilia"]If from our anguish to the voiceless tomb
Some meed of pleasure and of joy may come
When we recall the love we felt of yore
And the dear face whom now we see no more,
Then know thy sorrow gives thy wife beneath
A joy surpassing all the pains of death.
[tr. Wright (1926), "To Calvus on the Death of His Wife Quintilia"]If anything can pierce impenetrable earth and echo in the silence
of the grave, my Calvus, it is our sad memory
of those we love. (Our longing for them makes them bloom again,
quickened with love and friendship,
even though they left us long ago, heavy with tears).
Surely, yur Quintilia now no longer cries against powerful death
(who had taken her away from you too soon and she was gone).
Look, she is radiant, fixed in your mind, happy forever.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]If those in their silent graves can receive any pleasure or comfort at all, Calvus, from our lamenting, from that desire which we rekindle former affections and weep for friendships we long ago surrendered, then surely her premature death brings less grief than joy to Quintilia, whom you continue to cherish.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]If anything from our grief, can reach beyond
the mute grave, Calvus, and be pleasing and welcome,
grief with which, in longing, we revive our lost loves,
and weep for vanished friendships once known,
surely Quintilia’s not so much sad for her early death,
as joyful for your love.
[tr. Kline (2001), "Beyond The Grave: to Gaius Licinius Calvus"]If anything pleasant or welcome, Calvus, can befall the mute sepulchre in consequence of our grief, from the yearning with which we renew our ancient passions and weep for friendships long since cast away, surely it's not so much grief that's felt by Quintilia at her premature death , as joyfulness in your love.
[tr. Green (2005)]If anything pleasing or acceptable to silent sepulchers
is able to be done by our grief, Calvus,
by this longing we renew old loves
and we lament once sent away friendships.
Certainly a premature death is not of such sadness
to Quintilia, so much as she rejoices in your love.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]If anything dear and welcome can happen in mute graves
Because of our sadness, Calvus,
Because of that longing by which we renew old loves
And by which we weep for friendships formed long ago,
Surely Quintilia isn’t saddened by her untimely death,
But rather, she’s gladdened by your love.
[tr. Benn (2022)]
Proud purple kings shall kneel before thy throne,
Mix’d with the poor, their pomp, their glory gone:
All vain distinctions levelled by the grave,
Thy righteous sentence shall condemn or save.[Sub tua purpurei venient vestigia reges
deposito luxu turba cum paupere mixti
(omnia mors aequat); tu damnatura nocentes,
tu requiem latura piis.]Claudian (c. AD 370-404) Greco-Latin poet [Claudius Claudianus; Κλαυδιανός]
The Rape of Prosperine [De Raptu Proserpinæ], Book 2, I. 300 (c. AD 396) [tr. Howard (1854)]
(Source)
Pluto reassuring Proserpine that being Queen of the Underworld has its benefits.
Source of the phrase Omnia mors æquat, "Death levels all things" or "Death makes all equal."
(Source (Latin)), Alternate translations:The rich-clad purple kings shall humbly fall
Before thy throne (mixt with the poore) for all
Death equals; thou the guilty and unjust
Shalt judge, with them, the Innocente and Just.
Those shall bewaile their crimes, these shall be blest
By thee, and sent into eternal rest.
[tr. Diggs (1617)]Before thy lofty Throne, the haughty Pride
Of mighty Kings, their Purple laid aside
And Pageantry of State, shall lowly fall,
Mix'd with the poorer Rout, for Death will equal all.
In Judgement thou shalt sit, with Pow'r supreme,
To crown the Pious and the Bad condemn.
[tr. Hughes (1723)]Monarchs shall appear
Before thee, spoil'd of regal ornament,
And undistinguish'd from the vulgar crowd:
Death renders all men equal. Thou shalt judge
The guilty; and thy hand shall give the meed
To virtue.
[tr. Strutt (1814), l. 369ff]To thy feet shall come purple-clothed kings, stripped of their pomp, and mingling with the unmoneyed throng; for death renders all equal. Thou shalt give doom to the guilty and rest to the virtuous.
[tr. Platnauer (Loeb) (1922)]
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace.
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Irish poet, wit, dramatist
The Canterville Ghost, ch. 5 [The Ghost] (1887)
(Source)
Saint Luke was a Saint and a Physitian, yet is dead.
George Herbert (1593-1633) Welsh priest, orator, poet.
Jacula Prudentum, or Outlandish Proverbs, Sentences, &c. (compiler), # 1008 (1640 ed.)
(Source)
Will the gods grant a morrow for to-day?
No mortal can declare;
Give! all thou giv’st with open hand away
Escapes thy greedy heir.
Once thou art dead, once Minos on his bench
Thy doom for thee hath writ,
Birth, eloquence, devotion, nought can wrench
Thy spirit from the pit,
Torquatus!
[Quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae
tempora di superi?
Cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis amico
quae dederis animo.
Cum semel occideris et de te, splendida, Minos
fecerit arbitria,
non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te
restituet pietas.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 7, l. 17ff (4.7.17-24) (23 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Who knows if Iove unto thy life's past score
Will adde one morning more?
When thou art dead, and Rhadamanthus just
Sentence hath spoke thee dust,
Thy blood, nor eloquence can ransome thee,
No nor thy piety.
[tr. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]Who knows if stubborn Fate will prove so kind,
And joyn to this another day?
What e're is for thy greedy Heir design'd,
Will slip his Hands, and fly away:
When thou art gone, and Minos Sentence read,
Torquatus there is no return,
Thy Fame, nor all thy learned Tongue can plead,
Nor goodness shall unseal the Urn.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Can Hope assure you one more day to live
From powers above?
You rescue from your heir whate'er you give
The self you love.
When life is o'er, and Minos has rehearsed
The grand last doom,
Not birth, nor eloquence, nor worth, shall burst
Torquatus' tomb.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Who knows whether the gods above will add to this day’s reckoning the space of to-morrow? Every thing, which you shall indulge to your beloved soul, will escape the greedy hands of your heir. When once, Torquatus, you shall be dead, and Minos shall have made his awful decisions concerning you; not your family, not you eloquence, not your piety shall restore you.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Who knows, if they who all our Fates control,
Will add a morrow to thy brief to-day?
Then think of this, -- What to a friendly soul
Thy hand doth give shall 'scape thine heir's rapacious sway.
When thou, Torquatus, once hast vanish'd hence,
And o'er thee Minos' great decree is writ,
Nor ancestry, nor fire-lipp'd eloquence,
Nor all thy store of wealth to give thee back were fit.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Who knows if the gods will yet add a to-morrow
To the sum of to-day?
Count as saved from an heir's greedy hands all thou givest
To that friend -- thine own self.
When once dead, the resplendent tribunal of Minos
Having once pronounced doom,
Noble birth, suasive tongue, moral worth, O Torquatus,
Reinstate thee no more.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Who can tell whether the Gods above will add an existence for us during to-morrow to that of to-day? All, however, thou mayest indulge thyself in will escape the greedy grasp of thy heir. When once thou hast fallen, and Minos shall have passed his impartial judgment upon thee, neither thy pedigree, Torquatus, thine eloquence, nor thy goodness, will restore thee back to earth.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Who can tell whether the Gods will add the hours of tomorrow
On to the sum of to-day?
All will escape your heir's greedy clutches, which with a friendly
Mind you have spent in your life.
For, when once thou hast died, and over thee Minos in judgment
Hath made his grand last award,
Then neither birth shall avail, Torquatus; nor eloquence bring thee
Back, nor thy fear of the Gods.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Who knoweth if the gods above may add to-morrow's time
To this day's count?
All that thou givest to thy soul's delighting will escape
An heir's greedy hands.
When once thou'rt dead, and Minos o'er thee shall have made
August decision.
Not, O Torquatus, not thy birth, or flow of word, not piety,
Will reinstate thee.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Who knows that Heaven to this day's gift will please
To-morrow's sun to lend?
And all thy goods a greedy heir will seize,
Save what thyself did spend.
Once thou art dead, and Minos' high decree
Shall speak to seal thy doom
Though noble, pious, eloquent thou be,
These snatch not from the tomb.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Who knows whether the gods will add to-morrow’s time to the sum of today ? All things which thou grantest to thine own dear soul, shall escape the greedy clutches of thine heir. When once thou hast perished and Minos has pronounced on thee his august judgment, not family, Torquatus, nor eloquence, nor righteousness shall restore thee again to life.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Who knows whether the gods who reign above
Add a new day's span to the sum of this?
Live while you live; that which the soul you love,
Your self, enjoys, your greedy heir will miss.
Once you are dead, once Minos, judge of men,
Has fixed by doom august your destiny,
Not rank, Torquatus, shall restore you then;
Not eloquence; not even piety.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Who knows whether the all-high gods intend an addition
Made to the sum of today?
Give to your own dear self: that gift is the only possession
Fingers of heirs cannot grasp.
Once you are dead, Torquatus, and Minos delivers his august
Verdict upon your affairs,
No blue blood, no good deeds done, no eloquent pleading
Ever shall conjure you back.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Who knows if the gods will add tomorrow's
Hours to your time today?
Whatever you give yourelf, here, now,
No greedy heir can clutch at.
Torquatus, once you're buried, once
The Lord of Death has judged you,
Nothing will bring you back, no ancient
Name, no noble words, no one's love.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Who knows whether tomorrow the gods will have
Anything more to give than they have given?
What you can give to your own dear heart today
Will not fall into the clutch of your heir tomorrow.
Torquatus, once you've died and Minos the judge
Has spoken his words down there, then neither rank
Nor eloquence nor virtue -- none of these --
Can ever bring you back to life again.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Who knows whether the celestial gods will add tomorrow’s time to the sum of today’s. All which you bestow upon your very own soul escapes the avid hands of your heir. Once you are dead and Minos has pronounced on you his solemn judgment, neither your noble origin, Torquatus, nor your eloquence, nor your piety will bring you back to life.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Who knows whether the gods above will add tomorrow’s hours
to the total of today?
All those you devote to a friendly spirit will escape from
the grasping hands of your heirs.
When once you’re dead, my Torquatus, and Minos pronounces
his splendid judgement on you,
no family, no eloquence, no righteousness even,
can restore you again.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Yet new moons swift replace the seasons spent;
But when we forth are thrust,
Where old Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus went,
Shadow are we and dust.
[Damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae:
nos ubi decidimus
quo pius Aeneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus,
pulvis et umbra sumus.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 7, l. 13ff (4.7.13-16) (23 BC) [tr. Marshall (1908)]
(Source)
"To Torquatus." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:But the decays of time, Time doth repair:
When we once plunged are
Where good Aeneas, with rich Ancus wades,
Ashes we are, and shades.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]When we shall view the gloomy Stygian Shore,
And walk amongst the mighty Dead
Where Tullus, where Aeneas went before:
We shall be Dust, and empty shade.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Yet the swift moons repair Heaven's detriment:
We, soon as thrust
Where good Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus went,
What are we? dust.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Nevertheless the quick-revolving moons repair their wanings in the skies; but when we descend [to those regions] where pious Æneas, where Tullus and the wealthy Ancus [have gone before us], we become dust and a mere shade.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]But moons revolve, and all again is bright:
We, when we fall, as fell the good and just
Æneas, wealthy Tullus, Ancus wight,
Are but a nameless shade, and some poor grains of dust.
[tr. Martin (1864)]But the swift moons restore change and loss in the heavens,
When we go where have gone
Sire Æneas, and Tullus, and opulent Ancus,
We are dust and a shade.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]The swiftly-revolving Months however restore the gifts of the Seasons but we, when we have descended where good Æneas, wealthy Tullus, and Ancus, have gone, are dust and shadow.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]The hastening moons all waste in heaven repair:
We, when we once descend
To Tullus, Ancus, sire Aeneas, there
In dust and shadow end.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Yet the revolving Moons repair the losses of heaven;
But we, when once we have gone
Where pious Æneas, rich Tullus, and Ancus, have vanish'd,
Lo! dust and ashes are we!
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Still, rapid moving moons repair the heavenly losses:
We, when we fall
Whither the good Æneas fell, Tullus and Ancus rich,
Are dust and shadow.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Yet the swiftly changing moons repair their losses in the sky. We, when we have descended whither righteous Aeneas, whither rich Tullus and Ancus have gone, are but dust and shadow.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Yet, fast as moons wane in the sky, as fast
They wax; but we, poor mortals, when we fare
Whither Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus passed,
Are naught but dust here, naught but shadows there.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Moons make speed to repair their heavenly losses, but not so
We, who, when once we have gone
Downwards to join rich Tullus and Ancus and father Aeneas,
Crumble to shadow and dust.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Whatever the skies lose, quick-running
Months repair -- but men, good Aeneas
Or rich Tullus or Ancus king of Rome,
Die and turn to shadows, to dust.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Yet after a time, and time and time again,
The moon restores itself in the nighttime sky.
But when it's time for us to go down there
Where Aeneas went, the pious, and Tullus the rich,
And old King Ancus Martius, and all the others,
Then we're nothing but dust, we're nothing but shadows.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]And yet the swiftly phasing moons repair their celestial mishaps. While we, once descended where dwells pious Aeneas and wealthy Tullus and Ancus, dust and shadow are.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Yet swift moons are always repairing celestial losses:
while, when we have descended
to virtuous Aeneas, to rich Tullus and Ancus, our kings,
we’re only dust and shadow.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
No Church-yard is so handsom, that a man would desire straight to bee buried there.
George Herbert (1593-1633) Welsh priest, orator, poet.
Jacula Prudentum, or Outlandish Proverbs, Sentences, &c. (compiler), # 969 (1640 ed.)
(Source)
I have never thought there was much to be said in favour of dragging on long after all one’s friends were dead.
Murasaki Shikibu (c. 973 - c. 1014/1025) Japanese novelist, poet, lady-in-waiting [紫式部]
The Tale of Genji [源氏物語], ch. 29 “The Royal Visit [行幸]” [Princess Omiya] (AD 1001-1015) [tr. Waley (1928)]
(Source)
He should die young who says he has neither erred, strayed or been deceived.
Minna Antrim (1861-1950) American epigrammatist, writer
Naked Truth and Veiled Allusions (1902)
(Source)
The drama of life begins with a wail and end with a sigh.
Minna Antrim (1861-1950) American epigrammatist, writer
Naked Truth and Veiled Allusions (1902)
(Source)
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
Big Business and Politics are twins, they are the monsters who kill everything, corrupt everything.
He that feares death lives not.
George Herbert (1593-1633) Welsh priest, orator, poet.
Jacula Prudentum, or Outlandish Proverbs, Sentences, &c. (compiler), # 781 (1640 ed.)
(Source)
When we think of loss we think of the loss, through death, of people we love. But loss is a far more encompassing theme in our life. For we lose not only through death, but also by leaving and being left, by changing and letting go and moving on. And our losses include not only our separations and departures from those we love, but our conscious and unconscious losses of romantic dreams, impossible expectations, illusions of freedom and power, illusions of safety — and the loss of our own younger self, the self that thought it would always be unwrinkled and invulnerable and immortal.
Judith Viorst (b. 1931) American writer, journalist, psychoanalysis researcher
Necessary Losses, Introduction (1986)
(Source)
I had been gone a fortnight when the telegram was put into my hands. I had got a letter from my sister, a few hours before, saying that all was well at home. The telegram said in five words that she had died suddenly the previous night. There was no mention of my mother, and I was three days’ journey from home.
The news I got on reaching London was this: my mother did not understand that her daughter was dead, and they were waiting for me to tell her.J. M. Barrie (1860-1937) Scottish novelist and dramatist [James Matthew Barrie]
Margaret Ogilvy, ch. 10 “Art Thou Afraid His Power Shall Fail?” (1896)
(Source)
The book is a biographical work about his mother and family.
The rich are like beasts of burden, carrying treasure all day, and at the night of death unladen; they carry to their grave only the bruises and marks of their toil.
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
(Attributed)
I could not find something similar to this in searches of Augustine's writings. The usual earliest citation for this wording is Josiah Hotchkiss Gilbert, ed., Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895). But it previously shows up in Edward Payson Tenney, Jubilee Essays: A Plea for the Unselfish Life, "The Retributions" (1862), though again with no original citation.
See, in contrast, Matthew 11:28-30.
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and — sans End!Omar Khayyám (1048-1123) Persian poet, mathematician, philosopher, astronomer [عمر خیام]
Rubáiyát [رباعیات], Bod. # 129 [tr. FitzGerald (1859), # 23]
(Source)
FitzGerald used the same translation for all his editions, though the number changed -- #23 in the 1st, #26 in the 2nd, and #24 in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th. editions.
Alternate translations:Yon rolling heaven for our destruction, yours and mine,
Aims its stroke at our lives, yours and mine;
Come, live, sit on the grass - it will not be long
Ere grass grows out of our dust, yours and mine.
[tr. Cowell (1858), # 3]This wheel of heaven seeks my destruction and thine, it plots against my soul and thine. Come, seat thyself upon the grass, for in a little while fresh grass will spring from this dust of mine and thine.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 358]The wheel of heaven still holds his set design
To take away thy life, O love and mine,
Sit we on this green turf, 'twill not be long
Ere turf will hide my dust along with thine
[tr. Whinfield (1882), # 205]O Love, for ever doth heaven's wheel design
To take away thy precious life, and mine;
Sit we upon this turf, 't will not be long
Ere turf shall grow upon my dust, and thine!
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 390]The "wheel of heaven" in its Fatal Play
Will soon our Breath of Being steal away, --
Come rest thee on this bank, for from our dust
Will spring the Vedure at no distant day.
[tr. Garner (1887), 3.3]The wheel of Heaven thy death and mine is bringing, friend!
Over our lives the cloud of doom 't is flinging, friend!
Come, sit upon this turf, for little time is left
Ere fresher turf shall from our dust be springing, friend!
[tr. M. K. (1888)]Beautiful wheel of blue above my head,
Will you be turning still when I am dead?
Were you still turning long before I came? --
O bitter thought to take with me to bed.
[tr. Le Gallienne (1897), # 54]The heavenly vault, for the sake of my destruction and thine,
wages war upon my pure sole and thine;
Sit upon the green sward, O my Idol! for it will not be long
ere that green sward shall grow from my dust and thine.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 129]Against our dear lives holding its design,
This wheel of Heaven doth plot thy death and mine;
Come sit upon this grass, 'twill not be long
Ere verdure springs up from my dust and thine.
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 442]The Heavens, that they may destroy us both,
On our pure souls to war are nothing loth;
Sit down, my Idol, on the grass, for soon
My dust and thine shall aid its vernal growth.
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 129]This wheel of Heaven, for the sake of my destruction
and thine, has designs upon my pure soul and thine.
Sit down on the grass, o idol, for it will not be long
ere grass shall spring from my dust and thine.
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 35]This Wheel of the Spheres revolves for your annihilation and for mine,
It has evil intentions on your pure soul and on mine.
Rest on the meadow, my Iove, for not much time will pass.
Until grass springs from your dust and from mine.
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 262]This Wheel of time effaces me and thee,
To slaughter us it chases me and thee;
Sit on the lawn and love, for time arrives
When lawn would hide our traces, me and thee.
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 2.53]Allow no shadow of regret to cloud you,
No absurd grief to overcast your days.
Never renounce love-songs, or lawns, or kisses
Until your clay lies mixed with elder clay.
[tr. Graves & Ali-Shah (1967), # 24]This wheel of heaven, in order to destroy me and thee, has fell purpose against my innocent soul and thine: sit on the grass, and drink wine, and be happy, for this grass shall spring from my dust and thine.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 14]The wheel of Fate is crooked. It destroys
Such innocent young souls as yours and mine:
So, joyously, sit down upon the grass
And while away this hour in drinking wine.
Alas! the herbage which delights our eyes,
On which you now recline your lovely head,
Is rooted in the dust of loves -- and
Will spring from ours one day when we are dead.
[alt. tr. Bowen (1976), # 14]Don’t permit sorrow to be your friend
Sadness and pain become your trend
Don’t let the book or the farm you tend
Rule your life before to earth you descend.
[tr. Shahriari (1998), literal]Before to dust you shall return
There is one thing that you must learn
Sorrow and pain your soul shall burn
Joy and bliss to light shall turn.
[tr. Shahriari (1998), figurative]
Necessity’s impartial law
For every rank is still the same,
One lot for high and low to draw:
The urn hath room for every name.
[Aequa lege Necessitas
Sortitur insignes et imos;
Omne capax movet urna nomen.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 1, l. 14ff (3/1/14-16) (23 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Necessity in a vast Pot
Shuffling the names of great and small,
Draws every one's impartial lot.
[tr. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]Yet equal Death doth strike at all,
The haughty Great, and humble Small,
She strikes with an impartial Hand;
She shakes the vast capacious Urn,
And each Man's Lot must take his turn;
Thro every glass she presses equal Sand.
[tr. Creech (1684)]What are great or small?
Death takes the mean man with the proud;
The fatal urn has room for all.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Fate, by the impartial law of nature, is allotted both to the conspicuous and the obscure; the capacious urn keeps every name in motion.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Still Fate doth grimly stand.
And with impartial hand
The lots of lofty and of lowly draws
From that capacious urn,
Whence every name that lives is shaken in its turn.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Necessity with equal law assorts the varying lots;
Though this may bear the lofty name and that may bear the low,
Each in her ample urn she shakes,
And casts the die for all.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]But all with equal law stern Necessity
Allots their place — the high, the lowest,
Ev'ry man's name in that urn is shaken.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]but Doom, with equal law.
Wins high and humblest,
The ample urn shakes every name.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Alike for high and low Death votes.
His mighty urn will throw
Each name or soon or late.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Yet with impartial justice Necessity allots the fates of high and low alike. The ample urn keeps tossing every name.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]All the same,
Ever and aye Necessity
Dooms high and low impartially;
The vasty urn shakes every name.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Yet still Necessity, the same just dealer,
Allots to high and low
Their fates: her large urn shuffles every name.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Necessity makes the choice.
No matter what your station or situation,
Your name is shake in the urn.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Necessity allots the destinies of illustrious and lowly alike. The capacious urn churns every name.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]But Necessity sorts
the fates of high and low with equal
justice: the roomy urn holds every name.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
LIFE
We laugh and laugh,
Then cry and cry —
Then feebler laugh,
Then die.Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
Note (1898-07-04), Mark Twain’s Notebook, ch. 21 “In Vienna” (1935) [ed. Albert Bigelow Paine]
(Source)
While summering in Kaltenleutgeben, Austria.
Ah, Postumus! they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death’s indomitable power.
[Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
labuntur anni nec pietas moram
rugis et instanti senectae
adferet indomitaeque morti.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 2, # 14, l. 1ff (2.14.1-4) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
(Source)
"To Postumus." It is unclear which acquaintance of Horace this was addressed to; the name is popularly associated (back to Horace's time) with being given to a child born after the death of their father (which gives it a certain irony here); in reality, it was originally given to the (broader) category of last children of a father.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Ah Posthumus! the years of man
Slide on with winged pace, nor can
Vertue reprieve her friend
From wrinkles, age, and end.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]Time (Posthumus) goes with full sail,
Nor can thy honest heart avail
A furrow'd brow, old age at hand,
Or Death unconquer'd to withstand:
One long night,
Shall hide this light
From all our sight,
And equal Death
Shall few dayes hence,
stop every breath.
[tr. S. W.; ed. Brome (1666)]The whirling year, Ah Friend! the whirling year Rouls on apace;
And soon shall wrinkles plough thy wither'd Face:
In vain you wast your Pious breath,
No prayers can stay, no vows defer
The swift approach of Age, and conqu'ring Death.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Alas! my Postumus, my Postumus, the fleeting years glide on; nor will piety cause any delay to wrinkles, and advancing old age, and insuperable death.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Ah, Posthumus, the years, the fleeting years
Still onwards, onwards glide;
Nor mortal virtue may
Time's wrinkling fingers stay,
Nor Age's sure advance, nor Death's all-conquering stride.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Postumus, Postumus, the years glide by us,
Alas! no piety delays the wrinkles,
Nor old age imminent,
Nor the indomitable hand of Death.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Ah! Postumus! Devotion fails
The lapse of gliding years to stay,
With wrinkled age it nought avails
Nor conjures conquering Death away.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Ah me! how quickly, Postumus, Postumus,
Glide by the years! nor even can piety
Delay the wrinkles, and advancing
Age, and attacks of unconquer'd Hades.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Alas! Postumus, Postumus, the fleeing years
Slip by, and duteousness does not give pause
To wrinkles, or to hasting age,
Or death unconquerable.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Ah! Postumus, Postumus, fast fly the years,
And prayers to wrinkles and impending age
Bring not delay; nor shalt assuage
Death's stroke with pious tears.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Alas, O Postumus, Postumus, the years glide swiftly by, nor will righteousness give pause to wrinkles, to advancing age, or Death invincible.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Ah, Postumus, my Postumus, the fleeting years roll by;
Wrinkles and ever nearing eld stay not for piety:
Relentless they, relentless death's unconquered tyranny.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Ah, how they glide by, Postumus, Postumus,
The years, the swift years! Wrinkles and imminent
Old age and death, whom no one conquers --
Piety cannot delay their onward
March.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Oh year by year, Póstumay,
Póstumay, time slips by,
And holiness can't stop us drying,
Or hold off death.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]How the years go by, alas how the years go by.
Behaving well can do nothing at all about it.
Wrinkles will come, old age will come, and death,
Indomitable. Nothing at all will work.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Alas! O Postumus, Postumus! Swiftly the years glide by, and no amount of piety will wrinkles delay or halt approaching age or ineluctable death.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Oh how the years fly, Postumus, Postumus,
they’re slipping away, virtue brings no respite
from the wrinkles that furrow our brow,
impending old age, Death the invincible.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of him whom time cannot console.
Charles Caleb "C. C." Colton (1780-1832) English cleric, writer, aphorist
Lacon: Or, Many Things in Few Words, Vol. 2, § 200 (1822)
(Source)
It is so hard for us little human beings to accept this deal that we get. It’s really crazy, isn’t it? We get to live, then we have to die. What we put into every moment is all we have.
There is no Death! What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life Elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) American poet
“Resignation,” st. 5 (1849), The Seaside and the Fireside (1850)
(Source)
CATO: How beautiful is death, when earn’d by virtue!
Who would not be that youth? What pity is it
That we can die but once to serve our country!Joseph Addison (1672-1719) English essayist, poet, statesman
Cato, Act 4, sc. 4, l. 79ff (1713)
(Source)
On being presented with the corpse of his son. This line is thought to have inspired Nathan Hale.
I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind — and that of the minds who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it is the end; the fundamentalists, the beginning; when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or a town.
GARCIN: I died too soon. I wasn’t allowed time to — to do my deeds.
INEZ: One always dies too soon — or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are — your life, and nothing else.
Old Age, tho’ despised, is coveted by all Men.
Thomas Fuller (1654-1734) English physician, preacher, aphorist, writer
Gnomologia: Adages and Proverbs (compiler), # 3795 (1732)
(Source)
The planet’s tyrant, dotard Death, had held his gray mirror before them for a moment and shown them the image of things to come.
Dorothy Sayers (1893-1957) English author, translator
The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, ch. 2 (1928)
(Source)
With tread imperial, impartial pallid Death
knocks at the doors of cottages and palaces. [Pallida mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
Regumque turres.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 4, l. 13ff (1.4.13-14) (23 BC) [tr. Alexander (1999), “To Lucius Sestius”]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Death knocks as boldly at the Rich mans dore
As at the Cottage of the Poore,
[tr. Fanshaw (1666), "To L. Sextius, a Consular Man"]With equal foot, Rich friend, impartial Fate
Knocks at the Cottage, and the Palace Gate.
[tr. Creech (1684), "He adviseth his Friend to live merrily"]Pale Death, impartial, walks his round: he knocks at cottage-gate
And palace-portal.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Pale death knocks at the cottages of the poor, and the palaces of kings, with an impartial foot.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853), "To Sextius"]Death comes alike to all, — to the monarch's lordly hall,
Or the hovel of the beggar, and his summons none shall stay.
[tr. Martin (1864), "To Sestius"]But all the while, with equal step, pale Death strides on unpausing,
Knocks at thé lowly shed and regal tower.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870), "To Lucius Sestius"]Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings.
[E.g. (1893)]The kingly tower alike
And pauper's hut pale Death will strike.
[tr. Gladstone (1894), "To the Rich Sextius"]Pale Death with foot impartial knocks at poor men's dwellings.
And tow'rs of monarchs.
[tr. Phelps (1897), "To Sestius"]Pale death with foot impartial strikes at the huts of paupers and
Kings' towers.
[tr. Garnsey (1907), "To Sestius"]With equal foot pale Pluto knocks at hovels of the poor,
And at the tyrant's towers
[tr. Marshall (1908), "Spring"]Pale Death with foot impartial knocks at the poor man’s cottage and at princes’ palaces.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912), "Spring's Lesson"]Marching with step impartial, Death's pale Presence raps its call
At doors of rich and poor alike.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Hold! Pale Death, at the poor man's shack and the pasha's palace kicking
Impartially, announces his arrival.
[tr. Michie (1964)]Death raps his bony knuckles, bleached,
Indifferent, on any man’s door, a palace or a hut.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Revenant white-faced Death is walking not knowing whether
He's going to knock at a rich man's door or a poor man's.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Pale death knocks with impartial foot, at the door of the poor man’s cottage,
and at the prince’s gate.
[tr. Kline (2015), "Spring"]
Duty is weightier than a mountain, while death is lighter than a feather.
Meiji (1852-1912) Emperor of Japan (1867-1912) [明治天皇, Meiji-tennō; b. Mutsuhito (睦仁)]
“Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors [軍人勅諭, Gunjin Chokuyu]” (1882-01-04)
(Source)
The Rescript was the official code of ethics for military personnel, foundational to the Imperial Japanese armed forces and much of Japanese society. Officially issued by the Emperor Meiji, but actually written by oligarchs Inoue Kowashi and Yamagata Aritomo with editing by journalist Fukuchi Gen'ichiro.
Japanese source. More information on the Rescript.
EDIBLE, adj. Good to eat, and wholesome to digest, as a worm to a toad, a toad to a snake, a snake to a pig, a pig to a man, and a man to a worm.
Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?) American writer and journalist
“Edible,” The Cynic’s Word Book (1906)
(Source)
Included in The Devil's Dictionary (1911). Originally published in the "Devil's Dictionary" column in the San Francisco Wasp (1882-12-23).
It is better to die well than to live ill. […] He who fears death loses the joy of life. Above all else truth triumphs. He conquers who dies because no adversity can hurt the one over whom iniquity holds not sway.
[Melius est bene mori, quam male vivere […] Qui mortem metuit, amittit gaudia vitae; super omnia vincit veritas, vincit, qui occiditur, quia nulla ei nocet adversitas, si nulla ei dominatur iniquitas.]
Jan Hus (c. 1370-1415) Czech priest, theologian, philosopher, Church reformer [John Huss, etc.]
Letter to Christian of Prachaticz (>1413-04) [tr. Schaff (1915)]
(Source)
Written while in exile from Prague. "Truth triumphs" was adopted as a motto by Hussite fighters, and is inscribed (in Czech, "Pravda vítězí") the banner of the President of the Czechia.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translation:It is better to die well than to live badly. [...] He that fears death, loses the joys of life. Above all else, truth is conqueror. He conquers, who is slain: for no adversity hurts him if no iniquity hath dominion over him.
[tr. Pope (1904)]
The following translation is often mis-cited to Schaff; an examination of Schaff's book shows the above translation instead. I cannot find an original for this translation.It is better to die well, than to live wrongly [...] Who is afraid of death loses the joy of life; truth prevails all, prevails who is killed, because no adversity can harm him, who is not dominated by injustice.
When Life is woe,
And Hope is dumb,
The World says, “Go!”
The Grave says, “Come!”
What if thou be saint or sinner,
Crooked gray-beard, straight beginner, —
Empty paunch, or jolly dinner,
When Death thee shall call.
All alike are rich and richer,
King with crown, and cross-legged stitcher,
When the grave hides all.Richard Watson Gilder (1844-1909) American poet and editor
“Drinking Song,” st. 2, Lyrics, and Other Poems (1885)
(Source)
If anything does happen to me, I shall fall with a contented and prepared mind; and, indeed, death cannot be disgraceful to a brave man, nor premature to one of consular rank, nor miserable to a wise man.
[Si quid obtigerit, aequo animo paratoque moriar. nam neque turpis1mors forti viro potest accidere neque immatura consulari nec misera sapienti.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
Orationes in Catilinam [Catilinarian Orations], No. 4, § 2, cl. 3 (4.2.3) (63-12-05 BC) [tr. Yonge (1856), 4.3]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:if any thing should fall out amiss, I shall be contented and ready to die: For Death can never come dishonourable to a Valiant Person, nor untimely to him that is Consular, nor unfortunate to a Wise man.
[tr. Wase (1671), 4.3]If I am doomed to fall a sacrifice in your cause, I am resigned to my fate. To a well-prepared spirit death can never be dishonourable; to a consul never premature; to a wise man it never can be an evil.
[tr. Sydney (1795)]If anything shall happen to me, I shall die with a mind contented and prepared. For neither can a disgraceful death happen to a brave man, nor an untimely one to a man of consular rank, nor a wretched one to a wise man.
[tr. Mongan (1879), 4.2]If any (thing) shall have befallen, I shall die with an equal and prepared mind. For neither a base death is able to happen to a brave man, nor an immature (death) to a consular (man), nor a wretched (death) to a wise man.
[tr. Underwood (1885), 4.2]If any (thing) shall have befallen, I shall die with an equal [a calm] and prepared mind. For neither a base death is able to happen to a brave man, nor an immature (one) to a consular (man), nor a wretched (one) to a wise (man).
[tr. Dewey (1916), 4.2]Death cannot be dishonorable to the brave man, or premature to him who has held high office, or lamentable to the philosopher.
[Source]
But now in the shadows
It goes to the bourne
Of Orcus remorseless
Whence none may return.[Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
Illuc unde negant redire quemquam.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 3 “Death of the Sparrow,” ll. 11-12 [tr. Wright (1926), st. 4]
(Source)
Referring to the fate of his beloved Lesbia's beloved sparrow.
See also Shakepeare, Hamlet, Art 3, ll. 86-88.Death,
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns.
There is no particular evidence that Shakespeare ever read Catullus, but other ancients (e.g., Seneca) quoted these lines from this Carmina. At the same time, post-Shakespearean translators may have been themselves influenced by the Bard's lines in their translations.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Poor bird! who now that darksome bourn
Hast pass'd, whence none can e'er return.
[tr. Nott (1795), ll. 13-14]He now that gloomy path must trace,
Whence Fate permits return to none.
[tr. Lamb (1821), st. 3]Now he treads that gloomy track,
Whence none ever may come back.
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]Now to that dreary bourn
Whence none can e'er return,
Poor little sparrow wings his weary flight.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]Now he wendeth along the mirky pathway,
Whence, they tell us, is hopeless all returning.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]Now he has gone to that dark place,
Whose dismal pathway none retrace.
[tr. Bliss (1872)]Now must he wander o'er the darkling way
Thither, whence life-return the Fates denay.
[tr. Burton (1893)]Now it fares along that path of shadows from where nothing may ever return.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]Now, hs pretty doings o'er,
His little soul goes darkling whither all
Must go, and, going, may return no more.
[tr. Harman (1897)]Now he goes along the dark road, thither whence they say no one returns.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]The wee thing’s gane the shadowy road
That’s never traveled back by ony:
[tr. Davies (1912)]Now he travels the path of shadows, to that place, whence all men agree there is no return.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]Now does it seek the darksome way,
Whence none return nor message bring.
[tr. Stewart (1915), st. 4]Now he's journeying through the eternal
Darkness, to the relentless shades.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923), st. 4]And now he journeys whence they say
No steps retrace the darkling way.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]Now he is gone; poor creature,
lost in darkness,
to a sad place
from which no one returns.
[tr. Gregory (1931), st. 3]Who now? It's hard to walk through tenebrous flume
down there, where it is granted not one comes back.
[tr. Zukofsky (1959)]It now flits off on its way, goes, gloom-laden
down to where -- word is -- there is no returning.
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]Who now goes through that gloomy journey
from whence they denied anyone returns.
[tr. Sullivan (1997)]Now he goes down the shadowy road
from which they say no one returns.
[tr. Kline (2001)]Now he's traveling on that dark-shroud journey whence, they tell us, none of the departed ever returns.
[tr. Green (2005)]It now goes through the dark journey
to that place from where they deny that anyone returns.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]He who now goes through the shadowy journey
thither, whence they deny that anyone returns.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]
The prince who kept the world in awe,
The judge whose dictate fix’d the law;
The rich, the poor, the great, the small,
Are levell’d; Death confounds ’em all.John Gay (1685-1732) English poet and playwright
Fables, Part 2, Fable 16 “The Ravens, the Sexton, and the Earthworm” (1727)
(Source)
Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative.
Maurice Chevalier (1888-1972) French singer, actor, entertainer
(Attributed)
Attributed in James B. Simpson, Contemporary Quotations (1964 ed.) (though not showing up in later editions), citing New York Times (1960-10-09). I could not find the reference in the Times online archives, and Respectfully Quoted: A Dictionary of Quotations (1989) treats it as "Unverified."
Quote Investigator finds evidence Chevalier used the line as of 1959, but finds evidence of anonymous / filler use of it or close variants as early as 1952. He tracks multiple references, including attributions to Chevalier.
Ye Venuses and Cupids mourn,
Ye whom the graces most adorn,
Come, and your tears of sorrow shed:
My Lesbia’s little bird is dead.[Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque
et quantum est hominum venustiorum!
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 3 “Death of the Sparrow,” ll. 1-4 [tr. Bliss (1872)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Mourn all ye Loves! ye Graces mourn!
My Lesbia's fav'rite sparrow's gone!
Ye men for wit, for taste, preferr'd,
Lament my girl's departed bird!
[tr. Nott (1795)]Mourn, all ye loves and graces; mourn,
Ye wits, ye gallant, and ye gay;
Death from my fair her bird has torn,
Her much-loved Sparrow's snatch'd away.
[tr. Lamb (1821)]Loves and Graces, mourn with me,
Mourn, fair youths, where'er ye be!
Dead my Lesbia's sparrow is,
Sparrow, that was all her bliss.
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]Ye Graces! mourn, oh mourn!
Mourn, Cupids Venus-born!
And loveliest sons of earth, where'er ye are !
Dead is now my darling's sparrow --
Sparrow of my "winsome marrow,"
Than her very eyes, oh! dearer to her far.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]Weep each heavenly Venus, all the Cupids,
Weep all men that have any grace about ye.
Dead the sparrow, in whom my love delighted,
The dear sparrow, in whom my love delighted.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]Weep every Venus, and all Cupids wail,
And men whose gentler spirits still prevail.
Dead is the Sparrow of my girl, the joy,
Sparrow, my sweeting's most delicious toy.
[tr. Burton (1893)]O mourn, you Loves and Cupids, and all men of gracious mind. Dead is the sparrow of my girl, sparrow, darling of my girl.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]Mourn, all ye Loves, ye Loves and Cupids, mourn,
Make moan for heaviness, ye gallants bright,
For Lesbia's bird, my Lesbia weeps forlorn;
He's dead -- poor, pretty bird -- my love's delight!
[tr. Harman (1897)]Mourn, ye Graces and Loves, and all you whom the Graces love. My lady's sparrow is dead, the sparrow my lady's pet.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]Mourn, all ye Graces, mourn, ye Sons of Love, and all whose hearts engender pity. The sparrow of my beloved is no more; that sparrow, the delight of my beloved.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]Weep, weep, ye Loves and Cupids all,
And ilka Man o’ decent feelin’:
My lassie’s lost her wee, wee bird,
And that’s a loss, ye’ll ken, past healin’.
[tr. Davies (1912)]Let Venus bow her head in grief,
And tears drown Cupid's eyes in sorrow,
And men of feeling everywhere
Forget to smile -- until tomorrow.
My lady's little bird lies dead,
The bird that was my lady's prize.
[tr. Stewart (1915)]Weep, ye gods of love and pleasure,
Weep, all all ye of finer clay,
Weep, my darling's lost her treasure,
Mourn her sparrow passed away!
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]Mourn Loves and Graces all, and you
Of men the lovelier chosen few.
The sparrow of my love is dead,
The playmate of my love is sped.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]Dress now in sorrow, O all
you shades of Venus,
and your little cupids weep.
My girl has lost her darling sparrow.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]Lament, o graces of Venus, and Cupids,
and cry out loud, men beloved by Her graces.
Pass here, it's dead, meant so much to my girl, the
sparrow, the jewel that delighted my girl.
[tr. Zukofsky (1959)]Mourn, oh Cupids and Venuses,
and whatever there is of rather pleasing men:
the sparrow of my girlfriend has died,
the sparrow, delight of my girl.
[tr. Sullvan (1997)]Mourn, O you Loves and Cupids
and such of you as love beauty:
my girl’s sparrow is dead,
sparrow, the girl’s delight.
[tr. Kline (2001)]Mourn, Cupids all, every Venus,
and whatever company still exists of caring people:
Sparrow lies dead, my own true sweegheart's sparrow.
[tr. Green (2005)]Mourn, Oh Venuses and Cupids
And all men of finer feeling
The sparrow of my girl has died,
the sparrow, my lady's pet.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]Mourn, O Venuses and Cupids
and however many there are of more charming people:
my girl's sparrow is dead --
the sparrow, delight of my girl.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]
But not only creativeness and enjoyment are meaningful. If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete.
Viktor Frankl (1905-1997) German-American psychologist, writer
Man’s Search for Meaning [Trotzdem Ja zum Leben Sagen], Part 1 (1946) [tr. Lasch (1959)]
(Source)
When you take the wires of the cage apart, you do not hurt the bird, but help it. You let it out of its prison. How do vou know that death does not help me when it takes the wires of my cage down? — that it does not release me, and put me into some better place, and better condition of life?
Randolph S. Foster (1820-1903) American Methodist Episcopal bishop, preacher, educator
“Man a Spiritual Being,” Lecture 2, Chautauqua, New York (1878)
(Source)
Collected in his Beyond the Grave: Being Three Lectures Before Chautauqua Assembly in 1878 (1879).
I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.
On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone will drop to zero.
Chuck Palahniuk (b. 1962) American novelist and freelance journalist
Fight Club, ch. 2 (1997)
(Source)
The phrase also shows up later in the book, in ch. 24: "On a long enough time line, everyone's survival rate drops to zero."
In the 1999 movie adaptation (screenplay by Jim Uhls), the Narrator's line is "On a long enough time line the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."
And now you’ll be telling stories
of my coming back
and they won’t be false, and they won’t be true,
but they’ll be real.Mary Oliver (1935-2019) American poet
“The First Time Percy Came Back,” A Thousand Mornings (2012)
(Source)
Distrust, and darkness, of a future state,
Make poor Mankind so fearful of their Fate.
Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear
To be we know not what, we know not where.
For all you can hold in your cold dead hand
Is what you have given away.Joaquin Miller (1837-1913) American poet [pen name of Cincinnatus Heine (or Hiner) Miller]
“Peter Cooper (Died 1883),” ll. 11-12, In Classic Shades and Other Poems (1890)
(Source)
This phrasing of the sentiment seems to have been made by Miller, but the sentiment itself predates him in various ways. See, for example, Martial, Epigram 5.42 (AD 90): "You keep thus always what you gave."
Edward Gibbon, in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,, ch. 61 (1776), notes the epitaph of 15th Century Earl Edward Courtenay of Devonshire:What we gave, we have;
What we spent, we had;
What we left, we lost.
Miller was himself quoted by Edwin M. Poteat, President of Furman University, in his poem "What You Have Given Away" (1909). Poteat put the phrase in quotation marks, but is sometimes still given full credit.
Elbert Hubbard may have been borrowing from Miller in his Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Vol. 12 "Great Scientists," "Haeckel" (collected in 1916, but published earlier), where he writes:We keep things by giving them to others. The dead carry in their clenched hands only that which they have given away; and the living carry only the love in their hearts which they have bestowed on others.
Finally, often in the variant form "All we can hold in our cold dead hands is what we have given away," the phrase is today often identified as a Sanskrit proverb. The universality of thought means it may well have an ancient Indian inspiration, but the language may indicate a tie to Miller's poem, as promulgated. The "Sanscrit proverb" appears as such in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1922), but not in the 1896 edition. This may be taken from a letter to the editor, New York Times (1908-07-25) by Emily Noble, identifying this as the translation of a Sanskrit proverb.
And Man in portions can foresee
His own funereal destiny;
His wretchedness, and his resistance,
And his sad unallied existence:
To which his Spirit may oppose
Itself — and equal to all woes,
And a firm will, and a deep sense,
Which even in torture can decry
Its own concenter’d recompense,
Triumphant where it dares defy,
And making Death a Victory.
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.John Donne (1572-1631) English poet
Holy Sonnets, No. 10, “Death Be Not Proud,” ll. 13-14 (1609)
(Source)
To an embalmer there are no good men and bad men. There are only dead men and live men.
H. L. Mencken (1880-1956) American writer and journalist [Henry Lewis Mencken]
A Little Book in C Major, ch. 4, § 15 (1916)
(Source)
This thing of being a hero, about the main thing to it is to know when to die. Prolonged life has ruined more men that it ever made.
When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow.John Donne (1572-1631) English poet
Holy Sonnets, No. 10, “Death Be Not Proud,” ll. 5-6 (1609)
(Source)
If life is a play, then old age is its last act — and we ought to leave the theater when we are weary or, even better, when we are satisfied.
[Senectus autem aetatis est peractio tamquam fabulae, cuius defetigationem fugere debemus, praesertim adiuncta satietate.]Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 23 / sec. 85 (23.85) (44 BC) [tr. Cobbold (2012)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:The poete whiche rehercith in the Scene in some fable owght to beware that he make not werye and that he noye not his heerers by ouer long rehercyng the fable. So that men owght not desire to lyve ouir olde age seeyng pryncypally that in that age or nevir he is fulle weerye for to lyve.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]And old age is, as it were, the peroration or final end of a man's time in this world, much like to the epilogue or catastrophe of an interlude, the wearisome repetition or defatigation whereof we ought to avoid and eschew, and especially when we are fully cloyed with satiety.
[tr. Newton (1569)]But old age is the last act of our life as of a play, of which there ought to be an end, especially when there is satiety and fulnesse of time joyned with it.
[tr. Austin (1648)]Good Acts (if long) seem tedious, so is Age
Acting too long upon this Earth her Stage.
[tr. Denham (1669)]For in Old Age we are as in the last Act of a Play, in which we ought to take our Leave when fully satisfied with the Enjoyment.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]And as the whole Course of Life but too much resembles a Farce, of which Old-Age is the last Act; when we have enough of it, 'tis most prudent to retire, and not to make a Fatigue of what we should endeavour to make only an Entertainment.
[tr. Logan (1744)]In fine, old age may be considered as the last scene in the great drama of life, and one would not, surely, wish to lengthen out his part till he sunk down sated with repetition and exhausted with fatigue.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]Now old age is the completion of life, as of a play, weariness of which we ought to avoid, especially when satiety is added.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]Now old age is the consummation of life, just as of a play; from the fatigue of which we ought to escape, especially when satiety is superadded.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]Old age is the closing act of life, as of a drama, and we ought in this to avoid utter weariness, especially if the act has been prolonged beyond its due length.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]Now, old age is as it were the playing out of the drama, the full fatigue of which we should shun, especially when we also feel that we have had more than enough of it.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]Age; is; the end; of life, as of a play:
We should avoid the weariness that comes,
The more, if we've enjoyed it to the full.
[tr. Allison (1916)]Moreover, old age is the final scene, as it were, in life's drama, from which we ought to escape when it grows wearisome and, certainly, when we have had our fill.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]When life's last act, old age, has become wearisome, when we have had enough, the time has come to go.
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]Yes, old age is, so to speak, the last scene in the play; when we find it beginning to be tiresome we should beat a hasty retreat from it, especially when we feel as if we had seen all this before, entirely too many times.
[tr. Copley (1967)]Old age is the last act of the drama of life and when it is over we ought to leave it, especially if we have achieved a good fullness in it.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]Old age is but life’s drama’s final curtain.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]Old age is the final act in the play of life. When we have had enough and are weary, it is time to go.
[tr. Freeman (2016)]
And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds,
There’s a lean fellow beats all conquerors.Thomas Dekker (c. 1572-1632) English dramatist and pamphleteer
Old Fortunatus, Act 1, sc. 1, l. 281 (1599)
(Source)
We never understand how little we need in this world until we know the loss of it.
J. M. Barrie (1860-1937) Scottish novelist and dramatist [James Matthew Barrie]
Margaret Ogilvy, ch. 8 “A Panic in the House” (1896)
(Source)
A biographical work about his mother and family. He identifies this as a favorite saying of hers.
If, as certain small-minded philosophers believe, I shall feel nothing at all after death, then at least I don’t have to worry that they will be there to mock me after they die!
[Sin mortuus, ut quidam minuti philosophi censent, nihil sentiam, non vereor ne hunc errorem meum philosophi mortui irrideant.]Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 23 / sec. 85 (23.85) (44 BC) [tr. Freeman (2016)]
(Source)
Critiquing the Epicurians, who would disagree with his belief in an immortal soul.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:For if aftir this presente life I be dede as wele in soule as in body as that some yong and smale philosophers of whiche men name Epycures that affermyn, Certayne it is that I shall feele nothyng. And also I am not afferde that suche philosophers so ded mockyn me nor of this myne oppinion. Aftir whiche I verily beleve that the soules be undedly.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]And if it were not so, that after death I should feel nothing nor have any sense at all (as certain perrifoggers and bastard philosophers hold opinino) I fear not a whit least these lip-labourers and ideitical philosophers, when they themselves be dead, should scoff and make a mocking-stock at this mine assertion and belief, because they themselves shall also be without sense, and like to brute beasts.
[tr. Newton (1569)]But if when I am dead (as some small Philosophers say) I shall feel nothing, I fear not least the dead Philosophers should laugh at this my error.
[tr. Austin (1648)]If those who this Opinion have despis'd,
And their whole life to pleasure sacrific'd;
Should feel their error, they when undeceiv'd,
Too late will wish, that me they had believ'd.
[tr. Denham (1669)]But if after this Life I shall no longer be sensible, as some little Philosophers imagine, then am I in no Fear that dead Philosophers will laugh at my mistaken Opinion.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]And if, when dead, I should (as some minute Philosophers imagine) be deprived of all further Sense, I am safe at least in this, that those Blades themselves will have no Opportunity beyond the Grave to laugh at me for my Opinion.
[tr. Logan (1744)]I have the satisfaction in the meantime to be assured that if death should utterly extinguish my existence, as some minute philosophers assert, the groundless hope I entertained of an after-life in some better state cannot expose me to the derision of these wonderful sages, when they and I shall be no more.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]But if (as certain super-subtle philosophers conclude) I shall feel nothing, I am not afraid lest these philosophers, when dead, should ridicule this error of mine.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]But if I, when dead, shall have no consciousness, as some narrow-minded philosophers imagine, I do not fear lest dead philosophers should ridicule this my delusion.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]While if in death, as some paltry philosophers think, I shall have no consciousness, the dead philosophers cannot ridicule this delusion of mine.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]But if when dead, as some insignificant philosophers think, I am to be without sensation, I am not afraid of dead philosophers deriding my errors.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]But if when dead;
As some philosophers of little note
Believe, I feel no more, there is no fear
These dead philosophers should mock me there.
[tr. Allison (1916)]But if when dead I am going to be without sensation (as some petty philosophers think), then I have no fear that these seers, when they are dead, will have the laugh on me!
[tr. Falconer (1923)]True, certain insignificant philosophers hold that I shall feel nothing after death. If so, then at least I need not fear that after their own deaths they will be able to mock my conviction!
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]If on the other hand, as certain petty philosophers have held, I shall have no sensation when I am dead, then I need have no fear that deceased philosophers will make fun of this delusion of mine.
[tr. Copley (1967)]Some second-rate philosophers suggest that when I am dead I will be conscious of nothing. But all that means is that, if I’m wrong, they won't be able to make fun of me after their death.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]But anyway, if when I die my spirit also dies, I certainly won't give a flip about the opinions of dead philosophers.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]If when I am dead I’ll have no sensation,
As some small philosophers think, I won’t fear
Accents of derision from their graves to hear.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
Poor fool, what makes you promise yourself a long life, when there is not a day of it that goes by in security? Again and again, people who looked forward to a long life have been caught out over it, called away quite unexpectedly from this bodily existence. Nothing commoner than to be told, in the course of conversation, how such a man was stabbed, such a man was drowned; how one fell from a height and broke his neck, another never rose from table, another never finished his game of dice. Fire and sword, plague and murderous attack, it is always the same thing — death is the common end that awaits us all, and life can pass suddenly, like a shadow when the sun goes in.
[Ha stulte, quid cogitas te diu victurum, cum nullum diem habeas securum? Quam multi decepti sunt et insperati de corpore extracti! Quoties audisti a dicentibus, quia ille gladio cecidit, ille submersus est, ille ab alto ruens cervicem fregit, ille manducando obriguit, ille ludendo finem fecit, alius igne, alius ferro, alius peste, alius latrocinio interiit: et sic omnium finis mors est, et vita hominum tanquam umbra cito pertransit.]Thomas à Kempis (c. 1380-1471) German-Dutch priest, author
The Imitation of Christ [De Imitatione Christi], Book 1, ch. 23, v. 7 (1.23.7) (c. 1418-27) [tr. Knox-Oakley (1959)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Thou art a fool, if thou think to live long, sith thou art not sure to live one day to the end. How many have been deceived through trust of long life, and suddenly have been taken out of this world or they had thought. How oft hast thou heard say that such a man was slain, and such a man was drowned, and such a man fell and broke his neck ? This man as he ate his meat was strangled, and this man as he played took his death ; one with fire, another with iron, another with sickness, and some by theft have suddenly perished ! And so the end of all men is death, for the life of man as a shadow suddenly fleeth and passeth away.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]You are foolish if you think to live long, since you are not certain to live one day through to the end. How many have been deceived through trusting in a long life who have suddenly been taken out of the world much sooner than they had thought. How often have you heard that such a man was slain, and such a man was drowned, and such a man fell and broke his neck; this man choked on his food, and this man died in his recreation; one by fire, another by the sword, another by sickness, and some by theft have suddenly perished. And so the end of all men is death, and the life of man is as a shadow which suddenly glides and passes away.
[tr. Whitford/Gardiner (1530/1955)]Ah foole, why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise to thy selfe one day, how many have been deceived and suddenly snatcht away? How often dost thou hear these reports, such a man is slain, another is drowned, a third breaks his neck with a fall, this man died eating, and that man playing? One perished by fire, another by the sword, another of the plague, and another was slain by theeves, thus death is the end of all, and mans life passeth away like a shadow.
[tr. Page (1639), 1.23.29-31]Does any Confidence of long Life encourage you to defer putting this good Advice in Execution speedily ? Nay, but reflect, fond Man, how little you can promise your self one poor single Day. How many Instances have you before your Eyes, or fresh in your Remembrance, of Persons miserably deluded and disappointed in this Hope, and hurried out of the Body without any warning at all? How often have you been surprized with the News of this Friend being run thro', another drowning crossing the Water, a Third breaking his Neck by a Fall, a Fourth fallen down dead at Table, or choaked with his Meat, a Fifth seized with an Apoplex at Play, a Sixth burnt in his Bed, a Seventh murthered, an Eighth killed by Thieves, a Ninth struck with Lightning, or Blasting, or Pestilence, a Tenth swallow'd up in an Earthquake. Such vast variety of Deaths surround us, and so fleeting a Shadow is the Life of a Man.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.)]Ah foolish man! why dost thou still flatter thyself with the expectation of a long life, when thou canst not be sure of a single day? How many unhappy fools, deluded by this hope, are in some unexpected moment separated from the body! How often dost thou hear, that one is slain, another is drowned, another by falling from a precipice has broken his neck, another is choaked in eating, another has dropt down dead in the exercise of some favorite diversion; and that thousands, indeed, are daily perishing by fire, by sword, by the plague, or by the violence of robbers! Thus is death common to every age; and man suddenly passeth away as a vision of the night.
[tr. Payne (1803), 1.23.8]Ah! fool, why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise to thyself one day. How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away! How often dost thou hear these reports, Such a man is slain, another man is drowned, a third breaks his neck with a fall from some high place, this man died eating, and that man playing! One perished by fire, another by the sword, another of the plague, another was slain by thieves. Thus death is the end of all, and man's life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.
[ed. Parker (1841)]Ah, foolish man! why dost thou think thou wilt live long, when thou canst not count upon a single day? How many souls, deluded by this hope, are, in some unexpected moment, separated from the body! How often dost thou hear, that "one is slain, another is drowned, another, by falling form a precipice, has broken his neck -- another is choaked in eating; another has dropt down dead in the exercise of some favourite diversion; and that thousands, indeed, are daily perishing by fire, by sword, by the plague, or by the violence of robbers! Thus, death is the end of all; and the life of man passeth away suddenly like a shadow.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]Ah, fool! why dost thou think to live long, when thou art not sure of one day? How many thinking to live long have been deceived, and snatched unexpectedly away? How often hast thou heard related, that such a one was slain by the sword; another drowned; another, from a height, broke his neck; one died eating, another playing? Some have perished by fire; some by the sword; some by pestilence; and some by robbers. And so death is the end of all; and man's life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]Ah, foolish one! why thinkest thou that thou shalt live long, when thou art not sure of a single day? How many have been deceived, and suddenly have been snatched away from the body! How many times hast thou heard how one was slain by the sword, another was drowned, another falling from on high broke his neck, another died at the table, another whilst at play! One died by fire, another by the sword, another by the pestilence, another by the robber. Thus cometh death to all, and the life of men swiftly passeth away like a shadow.
[tr. Benham (1874)]Ah! fool, why dost thou think to live long, when thou canst not promise to thyself one day. How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away! How often dost thou hear these reports, Such a man is slain, another is drowned, a third has broken his neck with a fall, this man died eating, and that man playing! One perished by fire, another by the sword, another by the plague, another was slain by thieves. Thus death is the end of all, and man's life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]Ah, foolish man, why do you plan to live long when you are not sure of living even a day? How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away! How often have you heard of persons being killed by drownings, by fatal falls from high places, of persons dying at meals, at play, in fires, by the sword, in pestilence, or at the hands of robbers! Death is the end of everyone and the life of man quickly passes away like a shadow.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]Ah fool, why think of living long when you have no certainty of a day? How many are mistaken and unexpectedly snatched away from the body. How often you have heard men say, he is killed by the sword, he is drowned, he broke his neck falling from a height, he choked while eating, he met his end while at play; one perished by fire, another from plague, another by a robber; and so death is the end of all; and man’s life passes suddenly like a shadow.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]Foolish man, how can you promise yourself a long life, when you are not certain of a single day? How many have deceived themselves in this way, and been snatched unexpectedly from life! You have often heard how this man was slain by the sword; another drowned; how another fell from a high place and broke his neck; how another died at table; how another met his end in play. One perishes by fire, another by the sword, another from disease, another at the hands of robbers. Death is the end of all men; and the life of man passes away suddenly as a shadow.
[tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]You fool, why do you imagine you will live a long life. when you cannot be sure of a single day? Many have made this mistake and have been snatched away from life when they least expected it. So often you hear people saying that so and so has been killed in battle, and so and so drowned; another man has fallen from a height and broken his neck; one choked over a meal, another met his end in some sport. Others have died by -- fire, by violence, by sickness, by robbery -- death is the end of all, and the life of man passes by and vanishes like a shadow.
[tr. Knott (1962)]Foolish one, why do you hope for long life when not even one day is certain? How many there are who think they will live long, but are mistaken and snatched from the body unexpectedly. How often have you heard it said: This man fell by the sword; that man was drowned; another fell and broke his neck; yet another was taken while at table and the other was at sport when the end came. One by fire, another by steel, yet another by pestilence and again another by thieves met his death. Death is the end of all men and man’s life is a shadow that quickly passes by.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]Ah, my foolish friend! why do you think of living a long life when you are not sure of even one day? How many people are tricked and unexpectedly snatched away? How often have you heard it said that someone was murdered, someone else drowned, another broke his neck falling from a high place, yet another choked while eating, and someone else met his end while playing; one person died by fire, another from disease, and another was killed by a robber, and thus death is the end of all, and our life passes suddenly like a shadow.
[tr. Creasy (1989)]
Life, struck sharp on death,
Makes awful lightning.Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) English poet
Aurora Leigh, Book 1, ll. 210–211 (1856)
(Source)
We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.
Richard Dawkins (b. 1941) English ethologist, evolutionary biologist, author
Unweaving The Rainbow, ch. 1 “The Anaesthetic of Familiarity” (1998)
(Source)
Dawkins has said this passage will be read at his funeral.
Alas for those who never sing,
But die with all their music in them!Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (1809-1894) American poet, essayist, scholar
“The Voiceless” (1858)
(Source)
Life is a disease temporarily relieved every sixteen hours, by sleep. The complete cure: death.
[Vivre est une maladie dont le sommeil nous soulage toutes les seize heures. C’est un palliatif. La Mort est le remède.]
Nicolas Chamfort (1741-1794) French writer, epigrammist (b. Nicolas-Sébastien Roch)
Products of Perfected Civilization [Produits de la Civilisation Perfectionée], Part 1 “Maxims and Thoughts [Maximes et Pensées],” ch. 2, ¶ 113 (1795) [tr. Parmée (2003), ¶ 91]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Life is a malady in which sleep soothes us every sixteen hours; it is a palliation; death is the remedy.
[Ballou, comp. (1872)]Living is a disease from the pains of which sleep eases us every sixteen hours; sleep is but a palliative, death alone is the cure.
[tr. Hutchinson (1902)]Life is a disease from which sleep gives us alleviation every sixteen hours. Sleep is a palliative, Death is the remedy.
[tr. Mathers (1926)]Living is an ailment which is relieved every sixteen hours by sleep. A palliative Death is the cure.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]To live is a malady from which sleep vouchsafes us relief every sixteen hours. That is a palliative. The remedy is death.
[tr. Pearson (1973)]To live is a sickness that sleep comforts every sixteen hours. It's a palliative. Death is the cure.
[tr. Sinicalchi]Life is a sickness to which sleep provides relief every sixteen hours. It's a palliative. The remedy is death.
[Source]
All has its date below; the fatal hour
Was register’d in Heav’n ere time began.
We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works
Die too.William Cowper (1731-1800) English poet
The Task, Book 5 “The Winter Morning Walk,” l. 529ff (1785)
(Source)
Today a man is here; tomorrow he is gone. And when he is out of sight, he is soon out of mind.
[Hodie homo est, et cras non comparet. Cum autem sublatus fuerit ab oculis, etiam cito transit a mente.]
Thomas à Kempis (c. 1380-1471) German-Dutch priest, author
The Imitation of Christ [De Imitatione Christi], Book 1, ch. 23, v. 1 (1.23.1) (c. 1418-27) [tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:For the common proverb is true: To-day a man , to-morrow none. And when thou art taken out of sight, thou art anon out of mind, and soon shalt thou be forgotten.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]For the common proverb is true: Today a man; tomorrow none. When you are out of sight you are soon out of mind, and soon will be forgotten.
[tr. Whitford/Gardiner (1530/1955)]To day a man, tomorrow none, and out of sight, out of mind.
[tr. Page (1639)]To Day the Man is vigorous, and gay, and flourishing, and to Morrow he is cut down, withered and gone. A very little time carries him out of our Sight, and a very little more out of our Remembrance.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.)]To-day man is, and to-morrow he is not seen; And when he is once removed from the fight of others, he soon passeth from their remembrance.
[tr. Payne (1803)]To-day the man is here; to-morrow he hath disappeared. And when he is out of sight, quickly also is he out of mind.
[ed. Parker (1841)]Man is here to-day, and gone to-morrow: and when once removed from sight, soon perishes from remembrance.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]A man is here to-day, and to-morrow he is no longer seen. And when he is taken away from the sight, he is also quickly out of mind.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]To-day man is, and to-morrow he will be seen no more. And being removed out of sight, quickly also he is out of mind.
[tr. Benham (1874)]To-day we are here, to-morrow we disappear, and when we are gone, quickly also we are out of mind.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]Today we live; tomorrow we die and are quickly forgotten.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]Today man is; and tomorrow he has vanished. But when he is taken out of sight he also soon passes out of mind.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]Here man is today; tomorrow, he is lost to view; and once a man is out of sight, it's not long before he passes out of mind.
[tr. Knox-Oakley (1959)]A man is here today and gone tomorrow, and once he is out of our sight it is not long before he is out of our minds as well.
[tr. Knott (1962)]Today a man is and tomorrow he is gone. When he has been removed from our sight he is soon out of mind as well.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]Today we are, and tomorrow we are gone. And when we are taken out of sight, we soon pass out of mind.
[tr. Creasy (1989)]
All flesh is grass, and all its glory fades
Like the fair flower dishevell’d in the wind;
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream;
The man we celebrate must find a tomb,
And we that worship him, ignoble graves.
Do not ask, Reader, how my blood ran cold
and my voice choked up with fear. I cannot write it:
this is a terror that cannot be told.
I did not die, and yet I lost life’s breath:
imagine for yourself what I became,
deprived at once of both my life and death.[Com’io divenni allor gelato e fioco,
nol dimandar, lettor, ch’i’ non lo scrivo,
però ch’ogne parlar sarebbe poco.
Io non mori’ e non rimasi vivo;
pensa oggimai per te, s’ hai fior d’ingegno,
qual io divenni, d’uno e d’altro privo.]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 34, l. 22ff (34.22-27) (1309) [tr. Ciardi (1954)]
(Source)
Dante the Pilgrim finally sees Satan at the bottom and center of Hell. That would seem to be terrifying enough for this aside to the reader, but various translators and commentators try to cast it as some great theological metaphor.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:How frozen I was then, and hoarse with cold,
Reader, ask not; for I nought of it write,
As 'twill too little prove, whate'er I say
I did not die, nor yet alive remain'd.
Think for yourself, if you have any sense,
What I then was, depriv'd of Life and Death.
[tr. Rogers (1782)]While nature thro' my nerves convulsive shook:
New palsies seiz'd my agonizing frame,
And glowing now I felt the fever's flame.
While life and death by turns my limbs forsook.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 6]How frozen and how faint I then became,
Ask me not, reader! for I write it not,
Since words would fail to tell thee of my state.
I was not dead nor living. Think thyself
If quick conception work in thee at all,
How I did feel.
[tr. Cary (1814)]Ask me not, reader, how both hoarse and cold
I then became; I write it not, nor strive
To tell what never might by speech be told.
There I nor died, nor yet remained alive:
Now think, if thou hast power of thought, and see
What state was mine, that could of both deprive.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]How icy chill and hoarse I then became, ask not, O Reader! for I write it not, because all speech would fail to tell.
I did not die, and did not remain alive: now think for thyself, if thou hast an grain of ingenuity, what I became, deprived of both death and life.
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]How freezing then, how feeble I became,
Ask not, thou reader! for I cannot write;
For every language must fall short in flight.
I neither died, nor yet remained alive!
Think within thyself, if ingenious deft,
How I became of strength and heat bereft.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]How terror-frozen I became and faint,
Ask not, oh reader, what I cannot write,
For all that I could say would feeble seem.
I did not die, I scarcely was alive;
Hast thou one spark of fancy, think thou then
How I became who knew nor death nor life.
[tr. Johnston (1867)]How frozen I became and powerless then,
Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,
Because all language would be insufficient.
I did not die, and I alive remained not;
Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,
What I became, being of both deprived.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]How I then became frozen and weak, do not ask, reader, for I do not write it, seeing that every speech would be too little. I did not die and did not remain alive; think now for thyself, if thou hast a grain of wit, what I became, being deprived of one and the other.
[tr. Butler (1885)]How frozen I became, and weak of grace,
From writing, reader, let me now be shrived,
For every speech were weak such state to trace.
I did not die, and yet no longer lived;
Think for thyself, if thou hast Fancy's bloom,
What I became, of death and life deprived.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]How I became then chilled and hoarse, ask it not, Reader, for I write it not, because all speech would be little. I did not die, and I did not remain alive. Think now for thyself, if thou hast grain of wit, what I became, deprived of one and the other.
[tr. Norton (1892)]How frozen I became thereat, how fainting,
Ask it not, reader, for I do not write it.
For all that I could say would be but little.
I did not die, nor yet remained I living.
Bethink thee now, if aught of wit thou claimest,
What I became, bereft of both together.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]How chilled and faint I turned then, do not ask, reader, for I do not write it, since all words would fail. I did not die and I did not remain alive; think now for thyself, if thou hast any wit, what I became, denied both death and life.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]How faint I then became, how frozen cold,
Ask me not, Reader; for I write it not,
Because all speech would fail, whate'er it told.
I died not, yet of life remained no jot.
Think thou then, if of wit thou hast any share,
What I became, deprived of either lot.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]How cold I grew, how faint with fearfulness,
Ask me not. Reader; I shall nor waste breath
Telling what words are powerless to express;
This was not life, and yet it was not death;
If thou hast wit to think how I might fare
Bereft of both, let fancy aid thy faith.
[tr. Sayers (1949)]How frozen and faint I then became, ask it not, reader, for I do not write it, because all words would fail. I did not die and I did not remain alive: now think for yourself, if you have any wit, what I became, deprived alike of death and life!
[tr. Singleton (1970)]How chilled and nerveless. Reader, I felt then;
do not ask me -- I cannot write about it --
there are no words to tell you how I felt.
I did not die -- I was not living either!
Try to imagine, if you can imagine,
me there, deprived of life and death at once.
[tr. Musa (1971)]O reader, do not ask of me how I
grew faint and frozen then -- I cannot write it:
all words would fall far short of what it was.
I did not die, and I was not alive; v think for yourself, if you have any wit,
what I became, deprived of life and death.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]How frozen and how faint I then became,
Do not enquire, reader, description is useless,
For any speech would be inadequate.
I did not die, nor yet remain alive:
Think for yourself, if you have a trace
Of intellect, how I was, in that condition.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]How chilled and faint I was
On hearing that, you must not ask me, reader --
I do not write it, words would not suffice:
I neither died, nor kept alive -- consider
With your own wits what I, alike denuded
Of death and life, became as I heard my leader.
[tr. Pinsky (1994)]How then I became frozen and feeble, do not ask, reader, for I do not write it, and all speech would be insufficient.
I did not die and I did not remain alive: think now for yourself, if you have wit at all, what I became, deprived of both.
[tr. Durling (1996)]Reader, do not ask how chilled and hoarse I became, then, since I do not write it, since all words would fail to tell it. I did not die, yet I was not alive. Think, yourself, now, if you have any grain of imagination, what I became, deprived of either state.
[tr. Kline (2002)]How weak I now became, how faded, dry --
reader, don’t ask, I shall not write it down --
for anything I said would fall far short.
I neither died nor wholly stayed alive.
Just think yourselves, if your minds are in flower,
what I became, bereft of life and death.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]Then how faint and frozen I became,
reader, do not ask, for I do not write it,
since any words would fail to be enough.
It was not death, nor could one call it life.
Imagine, if you have the wit,
what I became, deprived of either state.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]Don't ask me, reader, how frozen and faint I felt:
I cannot write it, because no matter what words
I used, or how many, none would be sufficient.
I did not die, I did not remain in that world.
Just ask yourself, if you have a mind to work with,
In what condition I was, not dead, not alive?
[tr. Raffel (2010)]Reader, don’t ask how chill and faint I turned:
I couldn't write it. All the words would fail.
I didn't die, but couldn't live. I learned
What living death and death-in-life entail.
But you must ponder, if you have the wit,
What I, denied both life and death, became.
[tr. James (2013), l. 28ff]
Dead’s not good, but at least it’s simple.
James S. A. Corey (contemp.) American writer [pen name of Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck]
Cibola Burn, ch. 2 (2014)
(Source)
Death is like thunder in two particulars; we are alarmed at the sound of it; and it is formidable only from that which preceded it.
Charles Caleb "C. C." Colton (1780-1832) English cleric, writer, aphorist
Lacon: Or, Many Things in Few Words, Vol. 2, § 110 (1822)
(Source)
The Lord, the Slave, the Peasant, and the King
Unlike in life, in death the self-same thing.[Mors dominos servis et sceptra ligonibus æquat,
Dissimiles simili conditione trahens.]Walter Colman (1600-1645) English Franciscan friar
“La Danse Machabre or Death’s Duell,” st. 262 (c. 1633)
(Source)
In Hoyt's New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1922), this is translated:Death levels master and slave, the sceptre and the law,
and makes the unlike like.
Death, to a good man is but passing through a dark entry, out of one little dusky room of his Father’s house, into another that is fair and large, lightsome and glorious, and divinely entertaining.
Isaac Watts (1674-1748) English theologian and hymnodist
Miscellaneous Thoughts in Prose and Verse [Reliquiæ Juveniles], ch. 32 “Earth, Heaven, and Hell” (1734)
(Source)
This phrase is often misattributed to Adam Clarke (1762-1832) (e.g., 1853, 1853, 1876, 1880, 1888) or Samuel Clarke (1727-1769) (e.g., 1827). Finding the primary source confirms Watts' authorship, though it is possible that others used the passage in sermons and writings, and the attribution was misremembered.
“Is it true that your life passes before your eyes before you die?”
YES.
“Ghastly thought, really.” Rincewind shuddered. “Oh, gods, I’ve just had another one. Suppose I am about to die and this is my whole life passing in front of my eyes?”
I THINK PERHAPS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. PEOPLE’S WHOLE LIVES DO PASS IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES BEFORE THEY DIE. THE PROCESS IS CALLED “LIVING.”Terry Pratchett (1948-2015) English author
The Last Continent [Death and Rincewind] (1999)
(Source)
Variants and paraphrases:It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It's called living.It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it’s called Life.
They never fail who die
In a great cause.George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) English poet
Marino Faliero, Act 2, sc. 2 [Israel Bertuccio] (1821)
(Source)
To me the honour is sufficient of belonging to the universe — such a great universe, and so grand a scheme of things. Not even Death can rob me of that honour. For nothing can alter the fact that I have lived; I have been I, if for ever so short a time. And when I am dead, the matter which composes my body is indestructible — and eternal, so that come what may to my “Soul,” my dust will always be going on, each separate atom of me playing its separate part — I shall still have some sort of a finger in the pie. When I am dead, you can boil me, burn me, drown me, scatter me — but you cannot destroy me: my little atoms would merely deride such heavy vengeance. Death can do no more than kill you.
W. N. P. Barbellion (1889-1919) English diarist [William Nero Pilate Barbellion, pen name of Bruce Frederick Cummings]
The Journal of a Disappointed Man, 1912-12-22 (1919)
(Source)
You serve the best wine always, my dear sir,
And yet they say your wines are not so good.
They say you are four times a widower.
They say … A drink? I don’t believe I would.[Tu Setina quidem semper vel Massica ponis,
Papyle, sed rumor tam bona vina negat:
Diceris hac factus caelebs quater esse lagona.
Nec puto nec credo, Papyle, nec sitio.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 4, epigram 69 (4.69) (AD 89) [tr. Cunningham (1971)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:When I with thee, Cinna, doe die or sup,
Thou still do'st offer me they Gossips cup:
And though it savour well, and be well spiced,
Yet I to taste thereof am not enticed.
Now sith you needs will have me cause alledge,
While I straine curt'sie in that cup to pledge:
One said, thou mad'st that cup so hote of spice,
That it had made thee now a widower twice.
I will not say 'tis so, nor that I thinke it:
But good Sir, pardon me, I cannot drinke it.
[tr. Harington (1618), ep. 101; Book 2, ep. 5]Pure Massic wine thou does not only drink,
But giv'st thy guests: though some this do not think.
Four wives, 't is said, thy flagon caused to die;
This I believe not, yet not thirst to try.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]With the best wines of France you entertain:
Yet that your wine is bad the world complain:
That you have lost four wives by it; but I
Neither believe it, Sir, -- nor am adry.
[tr. Hay (1755)]Thou Setian and Massic serv'st, Pamphilus, up:
But rumor thy wines has accurst.
A fourth time the wid'wer thou'rt hail'd by the cup:
I neither believe it, nor -- thirst.
[tr. Elphinston (1782)]You always, it is true, Pamphilus, place Setine wine, or Massic, on table; but rumour says that they are not so pure as they ought to be. You are reported to have been four times made a widower by the aid of your goblet. I do not think this, or believe it, Pamphilus; but I am not thirsty.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]On Massic and Setinian fares
The guest that banquets in your hall.
Yet, Papilus, report declares
Them not so wholesome after all.
'Tis said that by that wine-jar you
Four times became a widower. Thus
I neither think, nor hold it true,
Nor am I thirsty, Papilus.
[tr. Webb (1879)]You indeed put on your table always Setine or Massic, Papilus, but rumour says your wines are not so very good: you are said by means of this brand to have been made a widower four times. I don't think so, or believe it, Papilus, but -- I am not thirsty.
[tr. Ker (1919)]Setine and Massic at your board abound,
Yet some aver your wine is hardly sound;
’Twas this relieved you of four wives they say;
A libel -- but I will not dine to-day.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921), "A Doubtful Vintage"]Your butler prates of Setine and of Massic,
But scandal gives it titles not so classic.
"Four wives it's cost you." Gossip's never true,
But I'm not thirsty -- much obliged to you.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), Ep. 202]I see you do serve Massic wine
And even glorious Setian.
But rumor has it that they smack
A bit of that Venetian
Mixture that Lucretia served,
That four of your dear wives
On tasting those expensive labels
Promptly lost their lives.
It's all, I'm sure, a lot of talk,
Incredible, I think.
But thank you, no; I've got to go.
Besides, I do not drink.
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]You serve wine in the very best bottles, Papylus,
but they say the wine is not exactly the best,
they say you've become a widower four times now
thanks to those very bottles.
What a crock!
You know I wouldn't take stock
in a rumor like that, Papylus.
It's just that I'm not thirsty.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]You always serve Setine or Massic, Papylus, but rumor refuses us such excellent wines. This flask is said to have made you a widower four times over. I don't think so or believe so, Papylus, but -- I'm not thirsty.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]Pappus, they say your wine is not good,
it made you a widower four times.
I don't believe that. You're a civilised man.
Nevertheless, my thirst is suddenly gone.v [tr. Kennelly (2008), "A Civilised Man"]You always serve such fine wine, Papylus,
but rumor makes us pass it up. They say
this flask has widowed you four times. I don't
believe it -- but my thirst has gone away.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
Death cancels our engagements, but it does not affect the consequences of our acts in life.
Katherine Anne Porter (1890-1980) American journalist, essayist, author, political activist [b. Callie Russell Porter]
Letter draft to Mary Doherty (1932-10-21)
(Source)
In Isabel Bayley, ed., Letters of Katherine Anne Porter, Sec. 2 (1990). Discussing the suicide of her friend, Hart Crane.
We may all resort, at the summer solstice, to the warmest spots of Italy, to Ardea, Pestum, and Baiae, fervid with the heat of the constellation Leo, since Curiatus condemned the air of Tivoli, when he was on the point of being transported from its extolled waters to those of the Styx. Fate is not to be diverted by localities: when death comes, the pestilent Sardinia is to be found in the middle of the healthy Tivoli.
[Ardea solstitio Castranaque rura petantur
Quique Cleonaeo sidere fervet ager,
Cum Tiburtinas damnet Curiatius auras
Inter laudatas ad Styga missus aquas.
5Nullo fata loco possis excludere: cum mors
Venerit, in medio Tibure Sardinia est.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 4, epigram 60 (4.60) (AD 89) [tr. Amos (1858)]
(Source)
Sardinia was considered a proverbially unhealthy locale, while Tivoli (Tibur) was considered a healthy resort to travel to during the summer.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:When Leo rages with the summer's sun,
From pestilential climates never run;
Since, in the wholesom'st and the purest air,
The destinies Croatius did not spare.
When thy time's come, death from no place is bound,
Sardinia in the midst of Tibur's found.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]To Ardea, Pestum, roam, and e'er so far;
Or glow beneath the Cleonean star:
While Curiatius damns Tiburtian gales,
As down the healthfull streams to Styx he fails.
The Fates no place debars: if Death be there,
Alike is Tibur's and Sardinia's air.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), 9.10]Let us in the summer solstice retire to Ardea and the country about Paestum, and to the tract which burns under the Cleonaean constellation; since Curiatius has condemned the air of Tivoli, carried off as he was to the Styx notwithstanding its much-lauded waters. From no place can you shut out fate: when death comes, Sardinia is in the midst of Tivoli itself.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]Go where you will, you cannot shut
The door on Fate; when Death draws nigh,
Then far Sardinia is as near
As Tibur.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]Seek ye Ardea in summer's heat, and the field sof castum, and teh meads scorched by Cleonae's star, seeing that Curiatius condemns Tibur's air; from amid waters so belauded was he sent to Styx. In no spot canst thou shut out fate; when death comes even in Tibur's midst is a Sardinia.
[tr. Ker (1919)]Now must we say, if thou be wise
In summer’s heat to Ardea turn,
Or seek the plain where Castrum lies
And the hot stars of Leo burn.
He that is laid in yonder grave
Saith, "Tarry not but get thee gone."
Here sought he Arno’s healing wave,
But found the stream of Acheron?
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]To Ardea and Castrum let us go
In the dog-days when all the heaven's aglow.
Tibur's a death trap; Curiatius died,
Sent mid its breezes to the Stygian tide.
Death ranges at his will; when so inclined
In Tibur's bosom he'll Sardinia find.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), ep. 195]Now in the blazing heat we might as well escape
to Castrum, or Ardea, or any sunburnt landscape,
since Curiatius has laid a curse
on the air of Tivoli by dying there,
where the waters are also salubrious.
No place can fend off death. It's no worse
to expire in sickly Sardinia than in a spa.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]At the solstice let us make for Ardea and the Castran countryside and whatever fields are scorched by Cleonae's constellation, since Curiatius damns the breezes of Tibur, dispatched to Styx amid her lauded waters. In no place can you shut out fate; when death comes, in the midst of Tibur is Sardinia.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
But when the sun in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory’s morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.
The terrible events of life are great eye-openers. They force us to learn that which it is wholesome for us to know, but which habitually we try to ignore — namely, that really we have no claim on a long life; that we are each of us liable to be called off at any moment, and that the main point is not how long we live, but with what meaning we fill the short allotted span — for short it is at best.
Felix Adler (1851-1933) German-American educator
Life and Destiny, Lecture 8 “Suffering and Consolation” (1903)
(Source)
The bitter, yet merciful, lesson which death teaches us is to distinguish the gold from the tinsel, the true values from the worthless chaff.
Felix Adler (1851-1933) German-American educator
Life and Destiny, Lecture 8 “Suffering and Consolation” (1903)
(Source)
Let us learn from the lips of death the lessons of life. Let us live truly while we live, live for what is true and good and lasting. And let the memory of our dead help us to do this. For they are not wholly separated from us, if we remain loyal to them. In spirit they are with us. And we may think of them as silent, invisible, but real presences in our households.
Felix Adler (1851-1933) German-American educator
Life and Destiny, Lecture 8 “Suffering and Consolation” (1903)
(Source)
It is written that the last enemy to be vanquished is death. We should begin early in life to vanquish this enemy by obliterating every trace of the fear of death from our minds. Then can we turn to life and fill the whole horizon of our souls with it, turn with added zest to all the serious tasks which it imposes and to the pure delights which here and there it affords.
Felix Adler (1851-1933) German-American educator
Life and Destiny, Lecture 8 “Suffering and Consolation” (1903)
(Source)
The Fear of Death often proves Mortal, and sets People on Methods to save their Lives, which infallibly destroy them.
Joseph Addison (1672-1719) English essayist, poet, statesman
Essay (1711-03-24), The Spectator, No. 25
(Source)
Death is a black camel, which kneels at the gates of all.
[الموت جمل أسود يركع أمام جميع البواب]
(Other Authors and Sources)
Arabic saying
Also identified as a Turkish saying.
Popularized in the West in the 19th Century by Algerian religious and military leader Abdelkader ibn Muhieddine (Abdelkader El Djazairi).
It received later used in the eponymous Charlie Chan novel by Earl Derr Biggers, The Black Camel, ch. 4 (1929), where it is identified as an "old Eastern saying": "Death is the black camel that kneels unbid at every gate."
It was also used in the 1931 movie of the same name: "Death is a black camel that kneels unbidden at every gate."
Further variants:
- "Death is a black camel that kneels before every man's door."
- "Death is a black camel which kneels at every man's gate."
It is impossible that anything so natural, so necessary, and so universal as death should ever have been designed by Providence as an evil to mankind.
For those who live neither with religious consolations about death nor with a sense of death (or of anything else ) as natural, death is the obscene mystery, the ultimate affront, the thing that cannot be controlled. It can only be denied.
Susan Sontag (1933-2004) American essayist, novelist, activist
Illness As Metaphor, ch. 7 (1978)
(Source)
We should laugh before being happy, for fear of dying without having laughed.
[Il faut rire avant que d’être heureux, de peur de mourir sans avoir ri.]
Jean de La Bruyère (1645-1696) French essayist, moralist
The Characters [Les Caractères], ch. 4 “Of the Heart [Du Coeur],” § 63 (4.63) (1688) [tr. Stewart (1970)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:We must laugh before we are happy, or else we may die before we have cause to laugh.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]We must laugh before we are happy, for fear we die before we laugh at all.
[Curll ed. (1713)]We must laugh before we are happy, or else we may die before we ever laugh at all.
[Browne ed. (1752)]We must laugh before we are happy, or else we may die before ever having laughed at all.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]We must laugh before we are happy, for fear of dying before we have laughed.
[tr. Lee (1903), "Brief Reflections on Men and Things"]
Dying is a troublesome business: there is pain to be suffered, and it wrings one’s heart; but death is a splendid thing — a warfare accomplished, a beginning all over again, a triumph. You can always see that in their faces. And come and close my eyes too, when I die; and see me as I really was.
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) British playwright and critic
Letter to Edith Lyttelton (5 Jul 1913)
(Source)
Sent on the death of her husband.
MALCOLM: Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it. He died
As one that had been studied in his death
To throw away the dearest thing he owed
As ’twere a careless trifle.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Macbeth, Act 1, sc. 4, l. 8ff (1.4.8-12) (1606)
(Source)
Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!
But what is all this fear of and opposition to Oblivion? What is the matter with the soft Darkness, the Dreamless Sleep?
James Thurber (1894-1961) American cartoonist and writer
In Clifton Fadiman, I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Twenty-Three Eminent Men and Women of Our Time (1940)
(Source)
Also published in Forum and Century (Jun 1939). Words spoken by Sylvester Blougram, the title character from Robert Browning's "Bishop Blougram's Apology" (1855).
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.
Paul Theroux (b. 1941) American novelist and travel writer
“D is for Death,” Hockney’s Alphabet (1991) [ed. Stephen Spender]
(Source)
Most persons have died before they expire — died to all earthly longings, so that the last breath is only, as it were, the locking of the doors of the already deserted mansion.
It will happen to all of us that at some point you’ll get tapped on the shoulder and told, not just that the party is over, but slightly worse: the party’s going on but you have to leave. And it’s going on without you.
Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011) English intellectual, polemicist, socio-political critic
“Is There an Afterlife?” Roundtable Discussion, Whizin Center for Continuing Education (15 Feb 2011)
(Source)
The quotation comes at 12:57 into the discussion.
Transcribed by Catherine O'Brian in Transcription: The Afterlife Debate with Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, David Wolpe, Bradley Shavit Artson (2014)
Death ends a life … but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor’s mind … toward some resolution, which it never finds.
Robert Anderson (1917-2009) American playwright, screenwriter, theater producer
I Never Sang for My Father, Act 2, Closing Monologue [Gene] (1968)
(Source)
(Ellipses in original.) The line is also given at the beginning of Act 1, where it reads:Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind towards some final resolution, some clear meaning, which it perhaps never finds.
In the 1970 adaptation Anderson made for film, the line is given as "which it may never find."
I have lived a life. I’ve journeyed through
the course that Fortune charted for me. And now
I pass to the world below, my ghost in all its glory.[Vixi, et, quem dederat cursum Fortuna, peregi;
Et nunc magna mei sub terras ibit Imago.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 4, l. 653ff (4.653-654) [Dido] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006)]
(Source)
Dido's deathbed statement.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:I have
Liv'd, and perform'd that course my fortune gave,
And now the earth must my great shade seclude.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]My fatal course is finish'd; and I go,
A glorious name, among the ghosts below.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]I have lived, and finished the race which fortune gave me. And now my ghost shall descent illustrious to the shades below.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]My life is lived, and I have played
The part that Fortune gave,
And now I pass, a queenly shade,
Majestic to the grave.
[tr. Conington (1866)]I have lived,
And have achieved the course that fortune gave.
And now of me the queenly shade shall pass
Beneath the earth.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 855ff]I have lived and fulfilled Fortune's allotted course; and now shall I go a queenly phantom under the earth.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]I, I have lived, and down the way fate showed to me have passed;
And now a mighty shade of me shall go beneath the earth!
[tr. Morris (1900)]My life is lived; behold, the course assigned
By Fortune now is finished, and I go,
A shade majestic, to the world below.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 86, l 768ff]My life is done.
I have accomplished what my lot allowed;
and now my spirit to the world of death
in royal honor goes.
[tr. Williams (1910)]My life is done and I have finished the course that Fortune gave; and now in majesty my shade shall pass beneath the earth.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]I have lived, I have run the course that fortune gave me,
And now my shade, a great one, will be going
Below the earth.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]I have lived, I have run to finish the course which fortune gave me:
And now, a queenly shade, I shall pass to the world below.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]I have lived
and journeyed through the course assigned by fortune.
And now my Shade will pass, illustrious,
beneath the earth.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 900ff]I have lived my life out to the very end
And passed the stages Fortune had appointed.
Now my tall shade goes to the under world.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 907ff]I have lived my life and completed the course that Fortune has set before me, and now my great spirit will go beneath the earth.
[tr. West (1990)]I have lived, and I have completed the course that Fortune granted,
and now my noble spirit will pass beneath the earth.
[tr. Kline (2002)]I have lived, and I have completed the course
Assigned by Fortune. Now my mighty ghost
Goes beneath the earth.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]I'm done with life; I've run the course Fate gave me.br> Now my noble ghost goes to the Underworld.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death’s perfect punctuation mark is a smile.
Into a dancer you have grown,
From a seed somebody else has thrown.
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own,
And somewhere between the time you arrive and the time you go,
May lie a reason you were alive but you’ll never know.Jackson Browne (b. 1948) American musician, songwriter, political activist
“For a Dancer” (1974)
(Source)
Speaking for myself, I could never pray to be delivered from sudden death. It is how you live, and not how you die that counts, and sudden deaths are only sad for those who are left. It is not dying, but living, that is a preparation for Death.
Margot Asquith (1864-1945) British socialite, author, wit [Emma Margaret Asquith, Countess Oxford and Asquith; Margot Oxford; née Tennant]
More Memories, ch. 11 (1933)
(Source)
In any man who dies there dies with him,
his first snow and kiss and fight.[И если умирает человек,
с ним умирает первый его снег,
и первый поцелуй, и первый бой…]Yevgeny Yevtushenko (1933-2017) Russian poet, writer, film director, academic [Евге́ний Евтуше́нко, Evgenij Evtušenko]
“People” (1961), l. 12ff, Selected Poems (1962)
(Source)
I discovered that I don’t nearly have the fear of death that I once had. What I do have is the terrible awareness of how little time there is to accomplish so many of the things that you want to accomplish. The other thing that seems accentuated, almost to a point of distortion, is the need, the desperate need you have of family, of loved ones. When it appeared possible I might not make it, I didn’t feel so much the awful awareness of, Jesus Christ, it’s going to be me ending the earth. What seemed to me the most predominant in my fears was that it would be the relationships that would end.
Rod Serling (1924-1975) American screenwriter, playwright, television producer, narrator
Audio diary (1975-05)
(Source)
Recorded comments in the hospital after his first heart attack. In Anne Serling, As I Knew Him: My Dad, Rod Serling (2013).
Everybody has to die, but I always believed an exception would be made in my case. Now what?
William Saroyan (1908-1981) American writer
Interview with the Associated Press (16 Apr 1981)
(Source)
Saroyan called the AP five days before his collapse and subsequent death from cancer. The statement was intended to be released after his demise. The last two words are usually omitted.
HELENA: There is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. ’Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me.
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
Th’ ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
All’s Well That Ends Well, Act 1, sc. 1, l. 89ff (1.1.89-97) (1602?)
(Source)
Remember that you can’t necessarily sanctify a cause by virtue of the fact that men die for it. A death in a worthless or even questionable cause is a pointless, meaningless, tragically premature death.
Rod Serling (1924-1975) American screenwriter, playwright, television producer, narrator
Commencement Address, Ithaca College, New York (13 May 1972)
(Source)
Insofar as I may be heard by anything, which may or may not care what I say, I ask, if it matters, that you be forgiven for anything you may have done or failed to do which requires forgiveness. Conversely, if not forgiveness but something else may be required to insure any possible benefit for which you may be eligible after the destruction of your body, I ask that this, whatever it may be, be granted or withheld, as the case may be, in such a manner as to insure your receiving said benefit. I ask this in my capacity as your elected intermediary between yourself and that which may not be yourself, but which may have an interest in the matter of your receiving as much as it is possible for you to receive of this thing, and which may in some way be influenced by this ceremony. Amen.
Roger Zelazny (1937-1995) American writer
“Agnostic’s Prayer,” Creatures of Light and Darkness (1969)
(Source)
Used by a character to shrive a person about to commit a public suicide. Also called the "Possibly Proper Death Litany."
Ripheus fell, a man
Most just of all the Trojans, most fair-minded.
The gods thought otherwise.[Cadit et Rhipeus, iustissimus unus
qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus aequi:
dis aliter visum.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 426ff (2.426) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Humphries (1951)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Next Ripheus fell, most faithfull to his trust:
Nor in all Troy was known a man more just:
Though by the Gods otherwise look'd upon.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]Then Ripheus follow'd, in th' unequal fight;
Just of his word, observant of the right:
Heav'n thought not so.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]Ripheus too falls, the most just among the Trojans, and of the strictest integrity; but to the gods it seemed otherwise.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]Then Rhipeus dies: no purer son
Troy ever bred, more jealous none
Of sacred right: Heaven's will be done.
[tr. Conington (1866)]Next
Rhipeus, of all Trojans most upright
And just : -- such was the pleasure of the gods!
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 580ff]Rhipeus falls, the one man who was most righteous and steadfast in justice among the Teucrians: the gods' ways are not as ours.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]Fell Rhipeus there, the heedfullest of right
Of all among the Teucrian folk, the justest man of men;
The Gods deemed otherwise.
[tr. Morris (1900)]Next, Rhipeus dies, the justest, but in vain,
The noblest soul of all the Trojan train.
Heaven deemed him otherwise.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 57, l. 508ff]Then Rhipeus fell;
we deemed him of all Trojans the most just,
most scrupulously righteous; but the gods
gave judgment otherwise.
[tr. Williams (1910)]Ripheus, too, falls, foremost in justice among the Trojans, and most zealous for the right -- Heaven's will was otherwise.
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]Then Rhipeus fell, he who of all the Trojans
Was most fair-minded, the one who was most regardful of justice:
God's ways are inscrutable.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]Then Ripheus, too, has fallen -- he was first
among the Teucrians for justice and
observing right; the gods thought otherwise.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]And Ripheus fell,
A man uniquely just among the Trojans,
The soul of equity; but the gods would have it
Differently.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 560ff]Rhipeus also fell. Of all the Trojans he was the most righteous, the greatest lover of justice. But the gods made their own judgments.
[tr. West (1990)]And Ripheus, who was the most just of all the Trojans,
and keenest for what was right (the gods’ vision was otherwise)
[tr. Kline (2002)]Then Rhipeus,
Of all Teucrians the most righteous (but the gods
Saw otherwise) went down.
[tr. Lombardo (2005), l. 493ff]Rhipeus falls too, the most righteous man in Troy,
the most devoted to justice, true, but the gods
had other plans.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Everywhere, wrenching grief, everywhere, terror
and a thousand shapes of death.[Crudelis ubique
Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima mortis imago.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 368ff (2.368-369) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), ll. 461-462]
(Source)
On the fighting in the streets of Troy. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:In all parts cruell grief, in all parts feare,
And various shapes of death was every where.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;
And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]Every where is cruel sorrow, every where terror and death in thousand shapes.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]Dire agonies, wild terrors swarm,
And Death glares grim in many a form.
[tr. Conington (1866)]And everywhere are sounds of bitter grief,
And terror everywhere, and shapes of death.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 506-507]Everywhere is cruel agony, everywhere terror, and the sight of death at every turn.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]Grim grief on every side,
And fear on every side there is, and many-faced is death.
[tr. Morris (1900)]All around
Wailings, and wild affright and shapes of death abound.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 49, l. 440-41]Anguish and woe
were everywhere; pale terrors ranged abroad,
and multitudinous death met every eye.
[tr. Williams (1910)]Everywhere sorrow,
Everywhere panic, everywhere the image
Of death, made manifold.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]All over the town you saw
Heart-rending agony, panic, and every shape of death.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]And everywhere
are fear, harsh grief, and many shapes of slaughter.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 497-98]Grief everywhere,
Everywhere terror, and all shapes of death.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]Bitter grief was everywhere. Everywhere there was fear, and death in many forms.
[tr. West (1990)]Cruel mourning is everywhere,
everywhere there is panic, and many a form of death.
[tr. Kline (2002)]Raw fear
Was everywhere, grief was everywhere,
Everywhere the many masks of death.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]All around were bitter grief and fear, and different scenes of death.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
I will accept that sometimes a villain has to die, but I’ll be damned if I’ll take free drinks for doing it.
Phil Foglio (b. 1956) American writer, cartoonist
Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess [Barry Heterodyne] (2012) [with Kaja Foglio]
(Source)
But let us die, go plunging into the thick of battle.
One hope saves the defeated: they know they can’t be saved![Moriamur et in media arma ruamus.
Una salus victis, nullam sperare salutem.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 2, l. 353ff (2.353-354) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006), l. 443ff]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Then let's incounter death, fall bravely on,
Vanquish'd men's safety is to hope for none.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:
Despair of life the means of living shows.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]Let us meet death, and rush into the thickest of our armed foes. The only safety for the vanquished is to throw away all hopes of safety.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]Come -- rush we on our fate.
No safety may the vanquished find
Till hope of safety be resigned.
[tr. Conington (1866)]Let us die,
And plunge into the middle of the fight.
The only safety of the vanquished is
To hope for none.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]Let us die, and rush on their encircling weapons. The conquered have one safety, to hope for none.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]Fall on a very midst the fire and die in press of war!
One hope there is for vanquished men, to cherish hope no more.
[tr. Morris (1900)]Forward, then,
To die and mingle in the tumult's blare.
Sole hope to vanquished men of safety is despair.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 47, l. 421ff]Let us fight
unto the death! To arms, my men, to arms!
The single hope and stay of desperate men
is their despair.
[tr. Williams (1910)]Let us die, and rush into the midst of arms. One safety the vanquished have, to hope for none!
[tr. Fairclough (1916)]So let us die,
Rush into arms. One safety for the vanquished
Is to have hope of none.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]Let us die, let us charge into the battle's heart!
Losers have one salvation -- to give up all hope of salvation.
[tr. Day Lewis (1952)]Then let
us rush to arms and die. The lost have only
this one deliverance: to hope for none.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 477ff]Come, let us die,
We'll make a rush into the thick of it.
The conquered have one safety: hope for none.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 470ff]Let us die. Let us rush into the thick of the fighting. The one safety for the defeated is to have no hope of safety.
[tr. West (1990)]Let us die and rush into battle.
The beaten have one refuge, to have no hope of refuge.
[tr. Kline (2002)]All that is left for us
Is to rush onto swords and die. The only chance
For the conquered is to hope for none.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]Let us die even as we rush into the thick of the fight. The only safe course for the defeated is to expect no safety.
[Routledge (2005)]Let's die by plunging into war. Our only refuge is to have no hope of refuge.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
All through history in every culture we’ve had to make up mythology to explain death to ourselves and to explain life to ourselves.
Ray Bradbury (1920-2012) American writer, futurist, fabulist
“The Fantasy Makers: A Conversation with Ray Bradbury and Chuck Jones,” Interview by Mary Harrington Hall, Psychology Today (Apr 1968)
(Source)
Near this spot
are deposited the Remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
and all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a DOGGeorge Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) English poet
“Epitaph to a Dog” (1808)
(Source)
Carved on the headstone over Boatswain's grave at Newstead Abbey, the family's ancestral home. Byron acquired the dog at age fifteen; Boatswain died of rabies, an endemic disease in England at the time, five years later. Byron wanted to be buried beside him, but the sale of the property made that impossible.
While the rest of the poem is considered Byron's, these first lines may have been written by his friend, John Cam Hobhouse. More discussion here.
The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
(Paraphrase)
(Source)
This was based on a statement Mark Twain made to a British correspondent of the New York Journal (in some incorrect versions the New York Evening Sun) who tracked him down in London upon reports in America that Twain was dying there. Twain wrote out a note saying, "James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine, was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness; the report of my death was an exaggeration." This response was published 2 June 1897, and the longhand note is still preserved.
In 1906, Twain recalled the incident for his memoir that he told the reporter, "Say the report is exaggerated." On retyping the manuscript some months later, he scribbled the word "greatly" in front of "exaggerated," and it was published that way in The North American Review.
In Albert B. Paine's Mark Twain, a Biography, Vol. 2, ch. 197 (1912), the story is that Twain told the correspondent, "Just say the report of my death has been grossly exaggerated."
Further discussion:
Clutter is what silts up exactly like silt in a flowing stream when the current, the free flow of the mind, is held up by an obstruction. I spent four hours in Keene yesterday getting the car inspected and two new tires put on, also finding a few summer blouses. The mail; has accumulated in a fearful way, so I have a huge disorderly pile of stuff to be answered on my desk. In the end what kills is not agony (for agony at least asks something of the soul) but everyday life.
May Sarton (1912-1995) Belgian-American poet, novelist, memoirist [pen name of Eleanore Marie Sarton]
Journal of a Solitude, “May 28th” (1973)
(Source)
I am not ready to die,
But I am learning to trust death
As I have trusted life.
I am moving
Toward a new freedom
Born of detachment,
And a sweeter grace —
Learning to let go.May Sarton (1912-1995) Belgian-American poet, novelist, memoirist [pen name of Eleanore Marie Sarton]
“Gestalt at Sixty,” sec. 3 (1972)
(Source)
Aristotle says that on the banks of the River Hypanis, which falls into the Euxine from a part of Europe, there is an order of beasties (creatures, insects, bestiolæ), which live one day. Of these, therefore, any that dies at the eight hour has died at an advanced age, but any that dies at sunset, in positive senility, especially if it be the solstice. Compare, now, our longest life with eternity, and we shall be found to be in much the same category as these ephemerals.
[Apud Hypanim fluvium, qui ab Europae parte in Pontum influit, Aristoteles ait bestiolas quasdam nasci, quae unum diem vivant. Ex his igitur hora VIII quae mortua est, provecta aetate mortua est; quae vero occidente sole, decrepita, eo magis, si etiam solstitiali die. Confer nostram longissimam aetatem cum aeternitate: in eadem propemodum brevitate qua illae bestiolae reperiemur.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
Tusculan Disputations [Tusculanae Disputationes], Book 1, ch. 39 (1.39) / sec. 94 (45 BC) [tr. Black (1889)]
(Source)
The reference is to Aristotle, History of Animals, 5.19 (552b.18). (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:By the mouth of the Hypanis, which on the side of Europe, falleth into the Black Sea; Aristotle reports certain Insects to be bred, that live but one day. Such therefore, of these, as dye at two in the Afternoon, dye elderly; but such, as at Sunset, very aged; and the more, if it be on the longest day in Summer. Compare our life, at longest, with Eternity; we shall be found, in a manner, as short-liv'd as are these Insects.
[tr. Wase (1643)]Aristotle saith, there is a kind of insect, near the river Hypanis;, which runs from a certain part of Europe, into the Pontus, whose life consists but of one day; those that die at the eighth hour, die in full age; those who die when the sun sets, very old, especially when the days are at the longest. Compare our l9ongest age with eternity, and we shall be found as short-lived as those little animals.
[tr. Main (1824)]At the river Hypanis, which flows into the Euxine, from a part of Europe, certain little insects, Aristotle says, are born to live but a day. Then, one of these, that dies at two afternoon, dies well-advanced in life; but he that dies at sunset, especially about the summer solstice, decrepit. Compare our longest age with eternity; we shall be found in much the same brevity with these little insects.
[tr. Otis (1839)]On the River Hypanis, which flows from some part of Europe into the Euxine Sea, Aristotle says that there is a certain species of insects that live only a day. One of them that died at the eighth hour of the day would have died at an advanced age; one of them that died at sunset, especially at the summer solstice, would have been decrepit. If we compare our life with eternity, we shall find ourselves of almost as brief a being as those insects.
[tr. Peabody (1886)]By the river Hypanis which flows into the Black Sea on the European side, Aristotle says some tiny creatures are born which live for one day. So of these one which has died in the eight hour has died at an advanced age; one which has died at sunset is senile, all the more if it dies at the summer solstice. Compare the longest human life with eternity; we shall turn out to be almost as short-lived as these tiny creatures.
[tr. Douglas (1985)]Aristotle reports that along the river Hypanis, which flows into Pontus from Europe, tiny creatures are born that live but a single day. If they die at the eighth hour they're of an advanced age, if at sunset, they're decrepit -- even more so on the solstice. Measure the longest human lifespan against eternity: you'll find we live about as briefly as those little creatures do.
[tr. Habinek (1996)]On the river Hypanis which flows from part of Europe into the Black Sea, Aristotle says that little creates are born which live for a single day. One of them, therefore, that has died at the eighth hour of the day has died at an advanced age; one that has died at sunset is senile, and all the more so if this occurs at the summer solstice. Compare our longest lifetime with eternity: we shall be found to be virtually as short-lived as those little creatures.
[tr. Davie (2017)]Aristotle says that certain little beasts which live for only one day are born near the Hypanis, which flows from part of Europe into the Black Sea. One of these who dies at sunrise dies as a youth; one who dies at noon has already achieved an advanced age; but one who departs at the setting of the sun dies old, especially if it is the solstice. Compare the entirety of our life with eternity, and we will be found to exist for just as short a time as that animal.
[tr. @sentantiq (2019), quoting from Petrarch, Secretum 3.17]
CAESAR: Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Julius Caesar, Act 2, sc. 2, l. 34ff (2.2.34-39) (1599)
(Source)
The initial phrase has seemingly morphed in the retelling, though still being cited to Shakespeare: "A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once." This is the form most often seen, but is not Shakespeare.
In A Farewell to Arms (1929), Hemingway gives another paraphrase: "The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one." This, too, sometimes gets modified to make it scan better, e.g., "A coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave dies only once."
PERICLES: I see that Time’s the king of men,
For he’s their parent, and he is their grave,
And gives them what he will, not what they crave.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Pericles, Act 2, sc. 3, l. 49ff (2.3.49-51) (1607) [with George Wilkins]
(Source)
Men that look no further than their outsides, think health an appurtenance unto life, and quarrel with their constitutions for being sick; but I that have examined the parts of man, and know upon what tender filaments that fabric hangs, do wonder that we are not always so; and considering the thousand doors that lead to death, do thank my God that we can die but once.
[Men that looke no further than their outsides thinke health an appertinance unto life, and quarrell with their constitutions for being sick; but I that have examined the parts of man, and know upon what tender filaments that Fabrick hangs, doe wonder that we are not alwayes so; and considering the thousand dores that lead to death doe thanke my God that we can die but once.]
Thomas Browne (1605-1682) English physician and author
Religio Medici, Part 1, sec. 44 (1643)
(Source)
Poor child, most tried of men, Persephone, daughter of Zeus, is not deceiving you in any way; this is the law that rules all mortals at their death. For just as soon as life has left the white bones, and the sinew no longer hold together bones and flesh, when the erupting force of blazing fire undoes the body, then the spirit wanders: much like a dream, it flits away and hovers, now here, now there.
[‘ὤ μοι, τέκνον ἐμόν, περὶ πάντων κάμμορε φωτῶν,
οὔ τί σε Περσεφόνεια Διὸς θυγάτηρ ἀπαφίσκει,
ἀλλ᾽ αὕτη δίκη ἐστὶ βροτῶν, ὅτε τίς κε θάνῃσιν:
οὐ γὰρ ἔτι σάρκας τε καὶ ὀστέα ἶνες ἔχουσιν,
ἀλλὰ τὰ μέν τε πυρὸς κρατερὸν μένος αἰθομένοιο
δαμνᾷ, ἐπεί κε πρῶτα λίπῃ λεύκ᾽ ὀστέα θυμός,
ψυχὴ δ᾽ ἠύτ᾽ ὄνειρος ἀποπταμένη πεπότηται.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Odyssey [Ὀδύσσεια], Book 11, l. 216ff (11.216) (c. 700 BC) [tr. Mandelbaum (1990)]
(Source)
Anticleia, Odysseus' mother, responding to him when he's unable to embrace her shade in the Underworld. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:O son, she answer’d, of the race of men
The most unhappy, Our most equal Queen
Will mock no solid arms with empty shade,
Nor suffer empty shades again t’ invade
Flesh, bones, and nerves; nor will defraud the fire
Of his last dues, that, soon as spirits expire
And leave the white bone, are his native right,
When, like a dream, the soul assumes her flight.
The light then of the living with most haste,
O son, contend to.
[tr. Chapman (1616)]Oh no, quoth she, my son, she’d no intent
T’ abuse you. ’Tis the nature of the dead.
We are no longer sinews, flesh, and bones,
We are substances incorporeal,
All that ’s consumed i’ th’ fun’ral fire; when once
That’s done, it in itself stands several;
Flies like a dream.
[tr. Hobbes (1675), l. 203ff]O son of woe, the pensive shade rejoin'd;
O most inured to grief of all mankind!
"'Tis not the queen of hell who thee deceives;
All, all are such, when life the body leaves:
No more the substance of the man remains,
Nor bounds the blood along the purple veins:
These the funereal flames in atoms bear,
To wander with the wind in empty air:
While the impassive soul reluctant flies,
Like a vain dream, to these infernal skies.
[tr. Pope (1725)]Ah, son! thou most afflicted of mankind!
On thee, Jove’s daughter, Proserpine, obtrudes
No airy semblance vain; but such the state
And nature is of mortals once deceased.
For they nor muscle have, nor flesh, nor bone;
All those (the spirit from the body once
Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,
And, like a dream, the soul flies swift away.
[tr. Cowper (1792), l. 258ff]O my child,
'Tis not Persephone deludes thee here.
This is their portion who, from light exiled,
Dying descend into these regions drear,
Sinewless, fleshless, boneless. On the bier
All substance was burnt out by force of fie,
When first the spirit, her cold flight to steer,
Left the white bones , and fluttering from the pyre
Straight to these shadowy realms did like a dream retire.
[tr. Worsley (1861), st. 32]Alas! my child! thou most ill-starred of all men!
'Tis not Persephone--Zeus' daughter, fools thee!
But this is the way with mortals, when they're dead.
Their powers no more are clothed with flesh and bones;
But these the mighty strength of the blazing fire
Consumes, when once life's left the calcined bones,
And the soul, like a dream, on wings hath fled away.
[tr. Bigge-Wither (1869), l. 217ff]Ah me, my child, of all men most ill-fated, Persephone, the daughter of Zeus, doth in no wise deceive thee, but even on this wise it is with mortals when they die. For the sinews no more bind together the flesh and the bones, but the great force of burning fire abolishes these, so soon as the life hath left the white bones, and the spirit like a dream flies forth and hovers near.
[tr. Butcher/Lang (1879)]O me, my child, my darling, most hapless man of men,
Persephone, daughter of Zeus, beguileth thee nought hereby,
But this is the lot of mortals when at last they come to die;
For no longer then the sinews hold together flesh and bone,
But they by the might of the fire bright-flaming are undone,
When first from the white bones wendeth the soul and living breath,
And the soul as a dream forth flieth and flitting hovereth.
[tr. Morris (1887)]Ah, my own child, beyond all men ill-fated! In no wise is Persephone, daughter of Zeus, beguiling you, but this is the way of mortals when they die: the sinews no longer hold the flesh and bones together; for these the strong force of the flaming fire destroys, when once the life leaves the white bones, and like a dream the spirit flies away.
[tr. Palmer (1891)]My son, she answered, most ill-fated of all mankind, it is not Proserpine that is beguiling you, but all people are like this when they are dead. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and bones together; these perish in the fierceness of consuming fire as soon as life has left the body, and the soul flits away as though it were a dream. [tr. Butler (1898)]But this is the appointed way with mortals when one dies. For the sinews no longer hold the flesh and the bones together, but the strong might of blazing fire destroys these, as soon as the life leaves the white bones, and the spirit, like a dream, flits away, and hovers to and fro.
[tr. Murray (1919)]Alas my hapless child! Here is no mockery from Persephone, daughter of Zeus: it is the common judgment upon all mortals when they die. Then the nerves will no more bind flesh and frame into one body, for the terrible intensity of the searing fire subdues them till they vanish, as the quickening spirit vanishes from the white bones and the soul flies out, to hover like a dream.
[tr. Lawrence (1932)]My child, my child! came her reply. What man on earth has more to bear than you? This is no trick played on you by Persephone, Daughter of Zeus. You are only witnessing here the law of our mortal nature, when we come to die. We no longer have sinews keeping the bones and flesh together, but once the life-force has departed from our white bones, all is consumed by the fierce heat of the blazing fire, and the soul slips away like a dream and flutters on the air.
[tr. Rieu (1946)]O my child -- alas,
most sorely tried of men -- great Zeus' daughter,
Persephone, knits no illusion for you.
All mortals meet this judgment when they die.
No flesh and bone are here, none bound by sinew,
since the bright-hearted pyre consumed them down --
the white bones long exanimate -- to ash;
dreamlike the soul flies, insubstantial.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1961)]Oh my child, ill-fated beyond all other mortals, this is not Persephone, daughter of Zeus, beguiling you, but it is only what happens, when they die, to all mortals. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and the bones together. The queens of the past and once the spirit has left the white bones, all the rest of the body is made subject to the fire's strong fury, but the soul flitters out like a dream and flies away.
[tr. Lattimore (1965)]My son, my son, the unluckiest man alive!
This is no deception sent by Queen Persephone,
this is just the way of mortals when we die.
Sinews no longer bind the flesh and bones together --
the fire in all its fury burns the body down to ashes
once life slips from the white bones, and the spirit,
rustling, flitters away ... flown like a dream.
[tr. Fagles (1996)]O my child, most ill-fated of men,
It is not that Persephone is deceiving you.
This is the way it is with mortals.
When we die, the sinews no longer hold
Flesh and bones together. The fire destroys these
As soon as the spirit leaves the white bones,
And the ghost flutters off and is gone like a dream.
[tr. Lombardo (2000)]Alas, my child, came my revered mother's reply, ill-fated above all men! This is no trick played on you by Persephone, Daughter of Zeus. It is the law of our mortal nature, when we come to die. We no longer have sinews keeping the bones and flesh together; once life has departed from our white bones, all is consumed by the fierce heat of the blazing fire, and the soul slips away like a dream and goes fluttering on its ways.
[tr. DCH Rieu (2002)]Ah my child, ill-fated beyond all men! It is not that Persephone, daughter of Zeus, is deceiving you, but it is the law that touches all mortal beings when they die: no longer do they have sinews that bind flesh and bone together, for as soon as the spirit departs from their white bones, the fierce heat of the blazing fire destroys everything, and their shade flies off, fluttering like a dream.
[tr. Verity (2016)]Oh, my child! You are the most unlucky man alive. Persephone is not deceiving you. Thsi is the rule for mortals when we die. Our muscles cease to hold the flesh and skeleton together; as soon as life departs our white bones, the force of blazing fire destroys the corpse. The spirit flies away and soon is gone, just like a dream.
[tr. Wilson (2017)]Alas, my child, ill-fated beyond all other mortals, Persephonē, daughter of Zeus, is in no way beguiling you. No, this is the fixed law for mortals, when anyone dies: The sinews no longer keep flesh and bones together, they're destroyed by the powerful force of blazing fire as soon as the spirit departs from the white bones and the soul, like a dream, flies fluttering off, is gone.
[tr. Green (2018)]My child, of all men most unfortunate,
no, dread Persephone, daughter of Zeus,
is not deceiving you. Once mortals die,
this is what’s ordained for them. Their sinews
no longer hold the flesh and bone together.
The mighty power of a blazing fire
destroys them, once our spirit flies from us,
from our white bones. And then it slips away,
and, like a dream, it flutters to and fro.
[tr. Johnston (2019), l. 268ff]
After the game, the King and the Pawn go into the same box.
(Other Authors and Sources)
Italian proverb
Phrased as such (and noted as an Italian proverb) in H. L. Mencken, A New Dictionary of Quotations (1942). The sentiment can be found in literature back to the 17th Century. See also Omar Khayyám.
More discussion: When the Chess Game Is Over, the King and the Pawn Go Back in the Same Box – Quote Investigator.
But aren’t we, the living, wretched since we must die? What pleasure can there be in life, when day and night we must reflect that we have to die, and at any moment?
[Qui vivimus, cum moriendum sit, nonne miseri sumus? quae enim potest in vita esse iucunditas, cum dies et noctes cogitandum sit iam iamque esse moriendum?]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
Tusculan Disputations [Tusculanae Disputationes], Book 1, ch. 7 (1.7) / sec. 14 [Auditor] (45 BC) [tr. Douglas (1985)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:What say you of us that are alive, can we be other than miserable, since we must die? for what enjoyment can there be in life, when we are to think day and night that die we must of a certain, and it is uncertain whether this or the next Moment?
[tr. Wase (1643)]What then? we that are alive, are we not wretched, seeing we must die? for what is there agreeable in life, when we must night and day reflect that we may instantly die?
[tr. Main (1824)]But what? as to us who are alive, are we not miserable? For, what pleasantness can there be in life, when, by night and by day, we have to reflect already, even already, we are to die?
[tr. Otis (1839)]What then? we that are alive, are we not wretched, seeing we must die? for what is there agreeable in life, when we must night and day reflect that, at some time or other, we must die?
[tr. Yonge (1853)]Yet are not we who live miserable, seeing that we must die? For what pleasure can there be in life, while by day and by night we cannot but think that we may die at any moment?
[tr. Peabody (1886)]But how then? Are not we, who live, miserable, seeing that we must die? For what pleasure can there be in life when, night and day, the thought cannot fail to haunt us, that at any moment we must die?
[tr. Black (1889)]Aren't the living miserable, since we have to die? What joy can there be in life if day and night we are forced to consider the inevitable approach of death?
[tr. Habinek (1996)]Are we not wretched, we who live though we must die? What joy can there be in life, when we must think day and night that we must at some time die?
[tr. @sententiq (2016)]
You seem a youth to look upon.
You dyed your hair — and lo,
The locks once whiter than a swan
Are blacker than a crow.
Not everyone can you deceive
And, though you hide the grey,
Yet Proserpine will not believe
But snatch the mask away.[Mentiris iuvenem tinctis, Laetine, capillis,
Tam subito corvus, qui modo sygnus eras.
Non omnes fallis; scit te Proserpina canum
Personam capiti detrahet illa tuo.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 3, epigram 43 (3.43) (AD 87-88) [tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
(Source)
Proserpina (the Roman version of Persephone) was the goddess / Queen of the Underworld.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Thou dy'st thy haire to seeme a younger man,
And turn'st a Crow, that lately wert a Swan.
All are not cousen'd; hels queene knows thee grey.
She'll take the vizor from thy head away.
[tr. May (1629)]Lentinus counterfeits his youth
With periwigs, I trow,
But art thou changed so soon, in truth,
From a swan to a crow?
Though canst not all the world deceive:
Proserpine knows thee gray;
And she'll make bold, without your leave,
To take your cap away.
[tr. Fletcher (1656)]Thou that not many months ago
Wast white as Swan, or driven Snow,
Now blacker far than Aesop's Crow,
Thanks to thy Wig, set’st up for Beau.
Faith Harry, thou'rt i'the wrong box,
Old Age these vain endeavours mocks
And time that knows thou'st hoary locks,
Will pluck thy Mask off with a pox.
[tr. Brown (1699)]Why should’st thou try to hide thy self in youth?
Impartial Proserpine beholds the truth,
And laughing at so find and vain a task,
Will strip thy hoary noddle of its mask.
[tr. Addison (fl. early 18th C)]With tinctur'd locks the dotard youth puts on:
Behold a raven, from but now a swan!
Though cheat'st not all; not her, who rules the dead:
She soon shall pull the mask from off thy head.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Part 2, ep. 21]Before a swan, behind a crow,
Such self-deceit ne'er did I know.
Ah! cease your arts-- death knows you're grey,
And spite of all will keep his day.
[tr. Hoadley (fl. 18th C) §240]You simulate youth, Lentinus, with your dyed hairs; so suddenly a crow, who were so lately a swan. You do not deceive everyone: Proserpina knows you for a greybeard, she will tear off the masque from your head.
[tr. Amos (1858), ch. 4, ep. 140]Letinus, fain to cheat men's eyes,
You smear your head with umber dyes;
And, late a swan as white as snow,
You've suddenly become a crow.
Is everyone deceived by you?
No, one can tell the genuine hue.
Proserpine knows your hair is grey,
And she will tear that mask away.
[tr. Webb (1879)]You ape youth, Laetinus, with your dyed hair; and you, who were but now a swan, are suddenly become a crow! You will not deceive everyone: Proserpine knows that you are hoary, and will snatch the mask from your head.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1897)]You pretend you're still youthful by dyeing your hair --
Now a crow, though a swan just of late --
But you don't fool us all, for Proserpina knows,
She'll show up the sham of your pate.
[tr. Nixon (1911)]You falsely ape youth, Laetinus, with dyed hair, so suddenly a raven who were but now a swan. You don't deceive all; Proserpine knows you are hoary: she shall pluck the mask from off your head.
[tr. Ker (1919)]You play the youth with raven hue assumed
But yesterday like swan of Leda plumed.
Not all you cheat; Proserpine knows you grey.
Some day she'll pluck your silly mask away.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924)]You wish, Lætinus, to be thought a youth,
And so you dye your hair.
You're suddenly a crow, forsooth:
Of late a swan you were!
You can't cheat all: there is a Lady dread
Who knows your hair is grey:
Proserpina will pounce upon your head,
And tear the mask away.
[tr. Duff (1929)]It's artificial for you to look like a young man
with your dyed hair, suddenly turning into a crow
when just a while ago you were a swan. You won't fool
everyone: Proserpina knows you are white-haired
and she will make you take your mask off.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]You've dyed your hair to mimic youth,
Laetinus. Not so long ago
You were a swan; now you're a crow.
You can't fool everyone. One day
Proserpina, who knows the truth,
Will rip that actor's wig away.
[tr. Michie (1972)]You were a swan, you’re now a crow.
Laetinus, why deceive us so,
With borrowed plumage trying?
The Queen of Shades will surely know
When she slips off your mask below,
In Death there's no more dyeing.
[tr. Pitt-Kethley (1987)]You simulate youth, Laetinus, by dying your hair; so suddenly a raven, who were but now a swan. You don't fool everybody. Proserpina knows your hair is white. She will drag the mask from your head.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]You dye your hair, Laetinus, to feign youth --
a swan before, a raven now instead.
You don't fool all. Proserpina can tell
you're gray. She'll pull that mask right off your head.
[tr. McLean (2014)]You counterfeit youth with hair-dye, Laetinus: all of a sudden you're a raven, when just now you were a swan. You don't fool everyone: Proserpina knows you are grey; she will drag the mask from your head.
[tr. Nisbet (2015)]Thou, that not a month ago
Wast white as swan or driven snow,
Now blacker far than Aesop's crow,
Thanks to thy wig, sett'st up for beau:
Faith, Harry, thou'rt i' the wrong box;
Old age these vain endeavours mocks,
And time, that knows thou 'st hoary locks,
Will pluck thy mask off with a pox.
[tr. Browne]Before a swan, behind a crow,
Such self-deceit I ne'er did know.
Ah, cease your arts! Death knows you're grey,
And, spite of all, will have his way.
[tr. Hoadley]
And earth who herself bestowed the body takes it back and wastes not a whit.
[Terram corpus quae dederit, ipsam capere neque dispendi facere hilum.]
Ennius (239-169 BC) Roman poet, writer [Quintus Ennius]
Fragment from the Annales Book 1, frag. 11-12 [tr. Warmingham (1935)]
(Source)
In Varro, De Lingua Latina, Book 5, sec 60, ll. 4-5 (1st C BC). In some locations, the Latin is given as "terraque corpus quae dedit ipsa capit neque dispendi facit hilum."
Alternate translations:The body she's given Earth does herself take back, and of loss not a whit does she suffer.
[tr. Kent (1938)]Earth herself takes back the body which she gave, and permits no loss whatsoever.
[Source (2013)]
All deaths are dour: the fate of men is sad; but there’s no death more miserable than the doom starvation sends.
[Πάντες μὲν στυγεροὶ θάνατοι δειλοῖσι βροτοῖσι,
λιμῷ δ’ οἴκτιστον θανέειν καὶ πότμον ἐπισπεῖν.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Odyssey [Ὀδύσσεια], Book 12, l. 341ff (12.341-342) [Eurylochus] (c. 700 BC) [tr. Mandelbaum (1990)]
(Source)
Urging is fellow sailors to slaughter the Sun God's cattle. That ends poorly.Original Greek. Alternate translations:Hear what I shall say,
Though words will staunch no hunger, ev’ry death
To us poor wretches that draw temporal breath
You know is hateful; but, all know, to die
The death of Famine is a misery
Past all death loathsome.
[tr. Chapman (1616)]Meantime Eurylochus bad counsel gives
To his companions. All deaths, quoth he,
Are hateful to what thing soever lives;
But death by hunger is the worst can be.
[tr. Hobbes (1675)]O friends, a thousand ways frail mortals lead
To the cold tomb, and dreadful all to tread;
But dreadful most, when by a slow decay
Pale hunger wastes the manly strength away.
[tr. Pope (1725)]Death, however caused,
Abhorrence moves in miserable man,
But death by famine is a fate of all
Most to be fear’d.
[tr. Cowper (1792)]Friends, though to wretched men all deaths are dire,
Yet it is far most miserable to pine
With pangs of famine and for want expire.
[tr. Worsley (1861), st. 47]Death is in all shapes to unhappy men
A fearful fate: but misery extreme
Were it our own destruction to provoke
And die of hunger.
[tr. Musgrave (1869), l. 515ff]All deaths are hateful to us wretched mortals;
But death by famine is most pitiable.
[tr. Bigge-Wither (1869)]Truly every shape of death is hateful to wretched mortals, but to die of hunger and so meet doom is most pitiful of all.
[tr. Butcher/Lang (1879)]All manner of death is loathly to wretched men that die,
But to meet our fate by famine is to end most wretchedly.
[tr. Morris (1887)]Hateful is every form of death to wretched mortals; and yet to die by hunger, and so to meet one's doom, is the most pitiful of all.
[tr. Palmer (1891)]All deaths are bad enough, but there is none so bad as famine.
[tr. Butler (1898)]All forms of death are hateful to wretched mortals, but to die of hunger, and so meet one's doom, is the most pitiful.
[tr. Murray (1919)]No variety of death is pleasing to us poor mortals: but commend me to hunger and its slow perishing as the meanest fate of all.
[tr. Lawrence (1932)]To us wretched men all forms of death are abominable, but death by starvation is the most miserable end that one can meet.
[tr. Rieu (1946)]All deaths are hateful to us, mortal wretches, but famine is the most pitiful, the worst end that a man can come to.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1961)]All deaths are detestable for wretched mortals,
but hunger is the sorriest way to die and encounter fate.
[tr. Lattimore (1965)]All ways of dying are hateful to us poor mortals,
true, but to die of hunger, starve to death --
that's the worst of all.
[tr. Fagles (1996)]Every manner of dying is hateful to miserable mortals,
but most wretched by hunger to die and encounter our doomsday.
[tr. Merrill (2002)]To us wretched men all forms of death are abominable,
but death by starvation is the most miserable way to meet one's doom.
[tr. DCH Rieu (2002)]All ways of dying are hateful to wretched mortals, but the most miserable way to meet one's doom is by hunger.
[tr. Verity (2016)]All human deaths are hard to bear. But starving is most miserable of all.
[tr. Wilson (2017)]All kinds of death are loathsome to wretched mortals,
but to die of starvation -- that's the most pitiful of fates!
[tr. Green (2018)]For wretched human beings
all forms of death are hateful. But to die
from lack of food, to meet one’s fate like that,
is worst of all. [tr. Johnston (2019), l. 445ff]
The best break anybody ever gets is in bein’ alive in the first place. An’ you don’t unnerstan’ what a perfect deal it is until you realizes that you ain’t gone be stuck with it forever, either.
Don’t take life so serious, son … it ain’t no how permanent.
Walt Kelly (1913-1973) American animator and cartoonist [Walter Crawford Kelly, Jr.]
“Pogo” [Porky Pine] (24 Jun 1950)
More discussion about this quotation: Don’t Take Life So Serious, Son … It Ain’t Nohow Permanent – Quote Investigator.
The recklessness of their ways destroyed them all.
[Αὐτῶν γὰρ σφετέρῃσιν ἀτασθαλίῃσιν ὄλοντο.]
Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Odyssey [Ὀδύσσεια], Book 1, l. 7ff (1.7) (c. 700 BC) [tr. Fagles (1996)]
(Source)
Original Greek. Alternate translations:
- "O men unwise, / They perish’d by their own impieties!" [tr. Chapman (1616)]
- "They lost themselves by their own insolence." [tr. Hobbes (1675), l. 9]
- "They perish’d self-destroy’d / By their own fault." [tr. Cowper (1792)]
- "For they were slain in their own foolishness." [tr. Worsley (1861), st. 2]
- "Destin'd as they were / In their mad arrogance to perish; fools!" [tr. Musgrave (1869)]
- "For they in their own wilful folly perished." [tr. Bigge-Wither (1869)]
- "For through the blindness of their own hearts they perished." [tr. Butcher/Lang (1879)]
- "They died of their own souls' folly." [tr. Morris (1887)]
- "For through their own perversity they perished." [tr. Palmer (1891)]
- "For they perished through their own sheer folly." [tr. Butler (1898)]
- "For they perished through their own deeds of sheer recklessness." [tr. Butler (1898), rev. Kim/McCray/Nagy/Power (2018)]
- "For through their own blind folly they perished." [tr. Murray (1919)]
- "For their own recklessness destroyed them all." [tr. Fitzgerald (1961)]
- "They were destroyed by their own wild recklessness, / fools." [tr. Lattimore (1965)]
- "Fools, they foiled themselves." [tr. Mendelbaum (1990)]
- "By their own mad recklessness they were brought to destruction, childish fools." [tr. Merrill (2002)]
- "It was their own transgression that brought them to their doom." [tr. DCH Rieu (2002)]
- "It was through their own blind recklessness that they perished, / the fools." [tr. Green (2018)]
- "They all died from their own stupidity, the fools." [tr. Johnston (2019)]
In all your actions, words, and thoughts, be aware that it is possible that you may depart from life at any time. But leaving the human race is nothing to be afraid of, if the gods exist; they would not involve you in anything bad. And if they do not exist or have no concern for human affairs, why should I live in a universe empty of gods and empty of providence? But the gods do exist and have concern for human affairs and have placed it wholly in the power of human beings never to meet what is truly bad.
[Ὡς ἤδη δυνατοῦ ὄντος ἐξιέναι τοῦ βίου, οὕτως ἕκαστα ποιεῖν καὶ λέγειν καὶ διανοεῖσθαι. τὸ δὲ ἐξ ἀνθρώπων ἀπελθεῖν, εἰ μὲν θεοὶ εἰσίν, οὐδὲν δεινόν: κακῷ γάρ σε οὐκ ἂν περιβάλοιεν: εἰ δὲ ἤτοι οὐκ εἰσὶν ἢ οὐ μέλει αὐτοῖς τῶν ἀνθρωπείων, τί μοι ζῆν ἐν κόσμῳ κενῷ θεῶν ἢ προνοίας κενῷ; ἀλλὰ καὶ εἰσὶ καὶ μέλει αὐτοῖς τῶν ἀνθρωπείων καὶ τοῖς μὲν κατ̓ ἀλήθειαν κακοῖς ἵνα μὴ περιπίπτῃ ὁ ἄνθρωπος, ἐπ̓ αὐτῷ τὸ πᾶν ἔθεντο.]
Marcus Aurelius (AD 121-180) Roman emperor (161-180), Stoic philosopher
Meditations, Book 2, #11 [tr. Gill (2014)]
(Source)
Original Greek. Alternate translations:Whatsoever thou dost affect, whatsoever thou dost project, so do, and so project all, as one who, for aught thou knowest, may at this very present depart out of this life. And as for death, if there be any gods, it is no grievous thing to leave the society of men. The gods will do thee no hurt, thou mayest be sure. But if it be so that there be no gods, or that they take no care of the world, why should I desire to live in a world void of gods, and of all divine providence? But gods there be certainly, and they take care for the world; and as for those things which be truly evil, as vice and. wickedness, such things they have put in a man's own power, that he might avoid them if he would.
[tr. Casaubon (1634), #8]Manage all your Actions and Thoughts in such a Manner as if you were just going to step into the Grave. And what great matter is the Business of Dying; if the Gods are in Being you can suffer nothing, for they'll do you no Harm, and if they are not, or take no Care of us Mortals, why then I must tell you, that a World without either Gods, or Providence is not worth a Man's while to live in. But there's no need of this Supposition; The Being of the Gods, and their Concern in Human Affairs is beyond Dispute. And as an Instance of this, They have put it in his Power not to fall into any Calamity properly so called.
[tr. Collier (1701)]Since it is possible that thou mayest depart from life this very moment, regulate every act and thought accordingly. But to go away from among men, if there are gods, is not a thing to be afraid of, for the gods will not involve thee in evil; but if indeed they do not exist, or if they have no concern about human affairs, what is it to me to live in a universe devoid of gods or devoid of providence? But in truth they do exist, and they do care for human things, and they have put all the means in man's power to enable him not to fall into real evils.
[tr. Long (1873 ed.)]Manage all your actions, words, and thoughts accordingly , since you may at any moment quit life. And what great matter is the business of dying? If the gods are in being, you can suffer nothing, for they will do you no har. And if they are not, or take no care of us mortals -- why, then a world without either gods or Providence is not worth a man's while ot live in. But, in truth, the being of the gods, and their concern in human affairs, is beyond dispute. And they have put it entirely in a man's power not to fall into any calamity properly so-called.
[tr. Zimmern (1887)]Whatever you do or say or think, it is in your power, remember, to take leave of life. In departing from this world, if indeed there are gods, there is nothing to be afraid of; for gods will not let you fall into evil. But if there are no gods, or if they do not concern themsleves with men, why live on in a world devoid of gods, or devoid of providence? But there do exist gods, who do concern themselves with men. And they have put it wholly in the power of man not to fall into any true evil.
[tr. Rendall (1898 ed.)]Let thine every deed and word and thought be those of a man who can depart from life this moment.[16] But to go away from among men, if there are Gods, is nothing dreadful ; for they would not involve thee in evil. But if indeed there are no Gods, or if they do not concern themselves with the affairs of men, what boots it for me to live in a Universe where there are no Gods, where Providence is not? Nay, but there are Gods, and they do concern themselves with human things;[17] and they have put it wholly in man's power not to fall into evils that are truly such.
[tr. Haines (1916)]In the conviction that it is possible you may depart from life at once, act and speak and think in every case accordingly. But to leave the company of men is nothing to fear, if gods exist; for they would not involve you in ill. If, however, they do not exist or if they take no care for man's affairs, why should I go on living in a world void of gods, or void of providence? But they do exist, and they do care for men's lives, and they have put it entirely in a man's power not to fall into real ills.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]In all you do or say or think, recollect that at any time the power of withdrawal from life is in your hands. If gods exist, you have nothing to fear in taking leave of mankind, for they will not let you come to harm. But if there are no gods, or if they have no concern with mortal affairs, what is life to me, in a world devoid of gods or devoid of Providence? Gods, however, do exist, and do concern themselves with the world of men. They have given us full power not to fall into any of the absolute evils.
[tr. Staniforth (1964)]You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think. If the gods exist, then to abandon human beings is not frightening; the gods would never subject you to harm. And if they don't exist, or don't care what happens to us, what would be the point of living in a world without gods or Providence? But they do exist, they do care what happens to us, and everything a person needs to avoid real harm they have placed within him.
[tr. Hays (2003)]Do, say, and think each thing as if it is possible to die right now. To leave the discussion of human affairs, if there are gods, it is nothing terrible -- for they would not ensnare you in evil. If, moreover, there are no gods -- or if the realms of men are not their concern -- why would I live in a universe emptied of gods or their foresight? No, there are gods and they are concerned with the affairs of men. And they have completely arranged it that the human race many not fall into evils that are truly evil.
[tr. @sentantiq (2017)]
Then welcome fate!
‘Tis true I perish, yet I perish great:
Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire,
Let future ages hear it, and admire![νῦν αὖτέ με μοῖρα κιχάνει.
μὴ μὰν ἀσπουδί γε καὶ ἀκλειῶς ἀπολοίμην,
ἀλλὰ μέγα ῥέξας τι καὶ ἐσσομένοισι πυθέσθαι.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 22, l. 303ff (22.303) [Hector] (c. 750 BC) [tr. Pope (1715-20), l. 385ff]
(Source)
Original Greek. Alternate translations:But Fate now conquers; I am hers; and yet not she shall share
In my renown; that life is left to every noble spirit,
And that some great deed shall beget that all lives shall inherit.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 266ff]But I will not fall
Inglorious; I will act some great exploit
That shall be celebrated ages hence.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 347ff]Fate overtakes me. Nevertheless I will not perish cowardly and ingloriously at least, but having done some great deed to be heard of even by posterity.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]My fate hath found me now.
Yet not without a struggle let me die,
Nor all inglorious; but let some great act,
Which future days may hear of, mark my fall.
[tr. Derby (1864)]Now my fate hath found me. At least let me not die without a struggle or ingloriously, but in some great deed of arms whereof men yet to be born shall hear.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]My doom has come upon me; let me not then die ingloriously and without a struggle, but let me first do some great thing that shall be told among men hereafter.
[tr. Butler (1898)]Now again is my doom come upon me. Nay, but not without a struggle let me die, neither ingloriously, but in the working of some great deed for the hearing of men that are yet to be.
[tr. Murray (1924)]But now my death is upon me. Let me at least not die without a struggle, inglorious, but do some big thing first, that men to come shall know of it.
[tr. Lattimore (1951)]Now the appointed time's upon me. Still, I would not die without delivering a stroke, or die ingloriously, but in some action memorable to men in days to come.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]So now I meet my doom. Well let me die --
but not without struggle, not without glory, no,
in some great clash of arms that even men to come
will hear of down the years!
[tr. Fagles (1990), l. 359ff]But now has my doom overcome me. But let me at least not die without making a fight, without glory, but a great deed having done for the men of the future to hear of.
[tr. Merrill (2007)]May I not die without a fight and without glory
but after doing something big for men to come to learn about.
[tr. @Sentantiq (2011)]
It’s a blessing to die for a cause, because you can so easily die for nothing.
Andrew Young (b. 1932) American politician, diplomat, activist
Interview by Peter Ross Range, Playboy (Jul 1977)
(Source)
Hector, stop!
You unforgivable, you … don’t talk to me of pacts.
There are no binding oaths between men and lions —
wolves and lambs can enjoy no meeting of the minds —
they are all bent on hating each other to the death.
So with you and me. No love between us. No truce
till one or the other falls and gluts with blood
Ares who hacks at men behind his rawhide shield.[Ἕκτορ μή μοι ἄλαστε συνημοσύνας ἀγόρευε:
ὡς οὐκ ἔστι λέουσι καὶ ἀνδράσιν ὅρκια πιστά,
οὐδὲ λύκοι τε καὶ ἄρνες ὁμόφρονα θυμὸν ἔχουσιν,
ἀλλὰ κακὰ φρονέουσι διαμπερὲς ἀλλήλοισιν,
265ὣς οὐκ ἔστ᾽ ἐμὲ καὶ σὲ φιλήμεναι, οὐδέ τι νῶϊν
ὅρκια ἔσσονται, πρίν γ᾽ ἢ ἕτερόν γε πεσόντα
αἵματος ἆσαι Ἄρηα ταλαύρινον πολεμιστήν.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 22, l. 261ff (22.261) [Achilles] (c. 750 BC) [tr. Fagles (1990), l. 308ff]
(Source)
After Hector proposes a pact with Achilles that the winner of their battle will not abuse the corpse of his opponent. Original Greek. Alternate translations:Hector, thou only pestilence in all mortality
To my sere spirits, never set the point ’twixt thee and me
Any conditions; but as far as men and lions fly
All terms of cov’nant, lambs and wolves; in so far opposite state,
Impossible for love t’ atone, stand we, till our souls satiate
The God of soldiers.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 224ff]"Talk not of oaths," the dreadful chief replies,
While anger flashed from his disdainful eyes,
"Detested as thou art, and ought to be,
Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee;
Such pacts, as lambs and rabid wolves combine,
Such leagues, as men and furious lions join,
To such I call the gods! one constant state
Of lasting rancour and eternal hate:
No thought but rage, and never-ceasing strife,
Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life."
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]Hector! my bitterest foe! speak not to me
Of covenants! as concord can be none
Lions and men between, nor wolves and lambs
Can be unanimous, but hate perforce
Each other by a law not to be changed,
So cannot amity subsist between
Thee and myself; nor league make I with thee
Or compact, till thy blood in battle shed
Or mine, shall gratify the fiery Mars.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 302ff]Talk not to me of covenants, O most cursed Hector. As there are not faithful leagues between lions and men, nor yet have wolves and lambs an according mind, but ever meditate evils against each other; so it is not possible for thee and me to contract a friendship, nor shall there at all be leagues between us, -- first shall one, falling, satiate the invincible warrior Mars with his blood.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]Hector, thou object of my deadly hate,
Talk not to me of compacts; as ’tween men
And lions no firm concord can exist,
Nor wolves and lambs in harmony unite,
But ceaseless enmity between them dwells:
So not in friendly terms, nor compact firm,
Can thou and I unite, till one of us
Glut with his blood the mail-clad warrior Mars.
[tr. Derby (1864)]Hector, talk not to me, thou madman, of covenants. As between men and lions there is no pledge of faith, nor wolves and sheep can be of one mind, but imagine evil continually against each other, so is it impossible for thee and me to be friends, neither shall be any pledge between us until one or other shall have fallen and glutted with blood Ares, the stubborn god of war.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]Fool, prate not to me about covenants. There can be no covenants between men and lions, wolves and lambs can never be of one mind, but hate each other out and out an through. Therefore there can be no understanding between you and me, nor may there be any covenants between us, till one or other shall fall and glut grim Mars with his life's blood.
[tr. Butler (1898)]Hector, talk not to me, thou madman, of covenants. As between lions and men there are no oaths of faith, nor do wolves and lambs have hearts of concord but are evil-minded continually one against the other, even so is it not possible for thee and me to be friends, neither shall there be oaths between us till one or the other shall have fallen, and glutted with his blood Ares, the warrior with tough shield of hide.
[tr. Murray (1924)]Hektor, I'll have no talk of pacts with you, forever unforgiven as you are. As between men and lions there are none, no concord between wolves and sheep, but all hold one another hateful through and through, so there can be no courtesy between us, no sworn truce until one of us is down and glutting with blood the wargod Arês.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]
Some things are fairly obvious when it’s a seven-foot skeleton with a scythe telling you them.
Do the best you can where you are; and, when that is accomplished, God will open a door for you, and a voice will call, “Come up hither into a higher sphere.”
Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887) American clergyman and orator
Life Thoughts [ed. E. Proctor] (1858)
(Source)
In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest.
[ἀμὴν ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ἐὰν μὴ ὁ κόκκος τοῦ σίτου πεσὼν εἰς τὴν γῆν ἀποθάνῃ αὐτὸς μόνος μένει ἐὰν δὲ ἀποθάνῃ πολὺν καρπὸν φέρει.]
The Bible (The New Testament) (AD 1st - 2nd C) Christian sacred scripture
John 12:24 [NJB (1985)]
(Source)
No Synoptic parallels.
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.
[KJV (1611)]I tell you, most solemnly, unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest.
[JB (1966)]I am telling you the truth: a grain of wheat remains no more than a single grain unless it is dropped into the ground and dies. If it does die, then it produces many grains.
[GNT (1976)]I assure you that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.
[CEB (2011)]Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]
And that comrade
who meets his death and destiny, speared or stabbed,
let him die! He dies fighting for fatherland —
no dishonor there![ὃς δέ κεν ὑμέων
βλήμενος ἠὲ τυπεὶς θάνατον καὶ πότμον ἐπίσπῃ
τεθνάτω: οὔ οἱ ἀεικὲς ἀμυνομένῳ περὶ πάτρης
τεθνάμεν.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 15, l. 494ff (15.494) [Hector] (c. 750 BC) [tr. Fagles (1990), l. 574ff]
(Source)
Original Greek. Alternate translations:If any bravely buy
His fame or fate with wounds or death, in Jove’s name let him die.
Who for his country suffers death, sustains no shameful thing,
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 452ff]Death is the worst; a fate which all must try;
And for our country 'tis a bliss to die.
The gallant man, though slain in fight he be,
Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free;
Entails a debt on all the grateful state;
His own brave friends shall glory in his fate.
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]Therefore stand fast, and whosoever gall’d
By arrow or by spear, dies -- let him die;
It shall not shame him that he died to serve
His country.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 599ff]Whichever of you, wounded or stricken, shall draw on his death and fate, let him die; it is not inglorious to him to die fighting for his country.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]And if there be among you, who this day
Shall meet his doom, by sword or arrow slain,
E’en let him die! a glorious death is his
Who for his country falls.
[tr. Derby (1864)]If any of you is struck by spear or sword and loses his life, let him die; he dies with honour who dies fighting for his country.
[tr. Butler (1898)]If so be any of you, smitten by dart or thrust, shall meet death and fate, let him lie in death. No unseemly thing is it for him to die while fighting for his country.
[tr. Murray (1924)]And if one finds
his death, his end, in some spear-thrust or cast,
then that is that, and no ignoble death
for a man defending his own land.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]
It seems to me you have had enough of life when you have had your fill of all its activities. Little boys enjoy certain things, but older youths to not yearn for these. Young adulthood has its delights, but middle age does not desire them. There are also pleasures of middle age, but these are not sought in old age. And so, just as the pleasures of earlier ages fall away, so do those of old age. When this happens, you have had enough of life, and it is time for you to pass on.
[Omnino, ut mihi quidem videtur studiorum omnium satietas vitae facit satietatem. Sunt pueritiae studia certa: num igitur ea desiderant adulescentes? Sunt ineuntis adulescentiae: num ea constans iam requirit aetas, quae media dicitur? Sunt etiam eius aetatis: ne ea quidem quaeruntur in senectute. Sunt extrema quaedam studia senectutis: ergo, ut superiorum aetatum studia occidunt, sic occidunt etiam senectutis; quod cum evenit, satietas vitae tempus maturum mortis affert.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 20 / sec. 76 (20.76) (44 BC) [tr. Freeman (2016)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:And he that is full & replete of all the studyes & werkys perteynent to every age he is replete and wery of the tyme of this life so that he doubte not in no wise the deth as it seemyth me rightfully & as I preve it by my self. And note ye for a good advertisement to every man for to bere in remembraunce and for his prouffite. That certayne thyngys be wherin pueryce callid childhode which is the seconde age puttith his studye and his entendyng in thynges accordyng to his agrement. And the adolescente men whiche be undir the thidd age desyren in no wise the thynges and the besynes wherin puerice studyeth and occupyeth. And certeyne thynges be wherin the men studyen & occupyen them in begynnyng of their adolescencye. Also certayne thynges be in whiche yong age whiche is the fourth & the mene age puttith not his studye & besynesse in his precedent ages though the man had employed & occupied hym in the othir first ages which be smaller and of lesse degree. Yong age is callid the age stable & meane by cause that it holdith the meane betwixt adolescence & olde age And cesseth than the man for to do lighe thynges and folyes And as theene or nevir the man is stable & hole in body in witt & undirstōding the thynges and the werkys in whiche yong men studyen and occupye them been suche that olde men rek nevir of it. But namely olde age hath delectacyon in some thynges in his laste dayes wheryn he studyeth and employeth his wittys. How be it thenne that the studyes and the werkys of the fyve first ages dyen and seace in some tyme and seasons they in suche wise seacen and dyen in the besynesse studyes and the werkys of olde age whiche when they lacken in the man than he whiche is full and wery for to lyve in this worlde cometh to that tyme whiche is ripe and covenable for to dye.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]But, methinks, satiety of all things causeth satiety of life. There are some fantastical and childish plays wherst young children in their childhood delight to play; shall, therefore, young men and tall fellows addict themselves to the same sembably? There are some exercises and affection swherein youthly years to enure themselves: shall the ripe and constant age (which si called the middle age of man) look to play at the same? And if this middle age there are some studies, wills, and appetites which old age careth not for. And there be some studies and exercises belonging and appropriate to old age . And therefore as the pleasure and delight of the studies and exercises in fresher and lustier ages doth in time wear away and come to an end, so doth the studies of old age in continuance and tract of time also die and vanish. And when this pleasuyre and delightful contentation begin in old men once to decrease, then doth satiety of life bring to them a convenable and mature time to die.
[tr. Newton (1569)]Truly me thinks that the satiety of all things makes also a satiety of life. There are certain studies in children, shall young men desire them? there are others in youth, shall age require them? and there be studies in the last age: therefore as the studies of former ages fail, so do the studies of old age, so that when the satiety or fulnesse of life commeth, it bringeth also a fit time for death.
[tr. Austin (1648), ch. 21]Satiety from all things else doth come,
Then life must to it self grow wearisome.
Those Trifles wherein Children take delight,
Grow nauseous to the young man's appetite,
And from those gaieties our youth requires,
To exercise their minds, our age retires.
And when the last delights of Age shall die,
Life in it self will find satietie.
[tr. Denham (1669)]There are in every Stage of Life, peculiar Pleasures and Diversions, in the Pursuit of which we are employed. And as, when Boys, we are tired with such things, as pleased our Infant State, and, when advanced to a riper Age, we still grow weary of our former Diversions; so Old Age itself has its peculiar Enjoyments. Therefore, as all the several Delights, of all our different Ages, decay and grow insipid, those f our latest Years will likewise fail, and make us loath and reject them, till at last, well satisfied with Length of Days, we fall our selves, ass if it were full ripe, and fit to drop into another World.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]'Tis a Rule with me, That the Fulness of all Things makes the Fullness of Life. Children have their Desires; must young people have the same? In some certain Studies delight Youth, must the Middle-aged too require the same? The Middle-aged have their Foibles; but they are not pursued by the Old; but Old Age has also its favourite Amusements of some Sort of other; and as the Studies of former Ages fall off from us, so do those of our Old Age at last fail us: And when that happens, then the fullness of Life brings on the fit and seasonable Moment for Death.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]By living long we come to a Satiety in all things besides and this should naturally lead us to a Satiety of Life itself. Children we see have their particular Diversions; and does Youth, when past Childhood, pursue or desire the same? Youth also has its peculiar Exercises; and does full Manhood require these as before? Or has Old Age the same Inclinations that prevailed in more vigorous Years? We ought then to conclude, That as there is a Succession of Pursuits and Pleasures in the several Stages of Life, the one dying away, as the other advances and takes Place; so in the same Manner are those of Old Age to pass off in their Turn. And when this Satiety of Life has fully ripen'd us, we are then quietly to lie down in Death, as our last Resting-Place, where all Anxiety ends, and Cares and Fears subsist no more.
[tr. Logan (1744)]The distaste with which, in passing through the several stages of our present being, we leave behind us the respective enjoyments peculiar to each; must necessarily, I should think, in the close of its latest period, render life itself no longer desirable. Infancy and youth, manhood and old age, have each of them their peculiar and appropriate pursuits. But does youth regret the toys of infancy, or manhood lament that no longer as a taste for the amusements of youth? The season of manhood has also its suitable objects, that are exchanged for others in old age; and these too, like all the preceding, become languid and insipt in their turn. Now when this state of absolute satiety is at length arrived; when we have enjoyed the satisfactions peculiar to old age, till we have no longer any relish remaining for them; it is then that death may justly be considered as a mature an seasonable event.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]In every view of it, as seems to me at least, a satiety of all pursuits produces satiety of life. Doubtless there are pursuits peculiar to boyhood; do then young men long for these? There are also pursuits proper to commencing adolescence; does that time of olife which is now settled, and is called middle-age, require them? There are also pursuits that belong to this latter period; those even are not sought after by old age. There are also certain pursuits of old age, which are the last; therefore as the pursuits of the former stages cease, so also to those of old age. And when this has come to pass, satiety of life brings on the ripe time of death.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]On the whole, as it seems to me indeed, a satiety of all pursuits causes a satiety of life. There are pursuits peculiar to boyhood; do therefore young men regret the loss of them? There are also some of early youth; does that now settled age, which is called middle life, seek after these? There are also some of this period; neither are they looked for by old age. There are some final pursuits of old age; accordingly, as the pursuits of the earlier parts of life fall into disuse, so also do those of old age; and when this has taken place, satiety of life brings on the seasonable period of death.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]In fine, satiety of life, as it seems to me, creates satiety of pursuits of every kind. There are certain pursuits belonging to boyhood; do grown-up young men therefore long for them? There are others appertaining to early youth; are they required in the sedate period of life which we call middle age? This, too, has its own pursuits, and they are not sought in old age. As the pursuits of earlier periods of life fail, so in like manner do those of old age. When this period is reached, satiety of life brings a season ripe for death.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]As a general truth, as it seems to me, it is weariness of all pursuits that creates weariness of life. There are certain pursuits adapted to childhood: do young men miss them? There are others suited to early manhood: does that settled time of life called "middle age" ask for them? There are others, again, suited to that age, but not looked for in old age. There are, finally, some which belong to old age. Therefore, as the pursuits of the earlier ages have their time for disappearing, so also have those of old age. And when that takes place, a satiety of life brings on the ripe time for death.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]To put it in a word, it seems to me
'Tis weariness of all pursuits that makes
A weary age. We have pursuits as boys,
Do young men want them? Others yet there are
Suited to growing years, are they required
By those who've reached what's termed "the middle age"?
That too enjoys its own, but are they fit
For us old me? We have our own of course,
And as the others end, just so do ours,
And when it happens, weariness of life
Proclaims that ripeness which precedes our death.
[tr. Allison (1916)]Undoubtedly, as it seems to me at least, satiety of all pursuits causes satiety of life. Boyhood has certain pursuits: does youth yearn for them? Early youth has its pursuits: does the matured or so-called middle stage of life need them? Maturity, too, has such as are not even sought in old age, and finally, there are those suitable to old age. Therefore as the pleasures and pursuits of the earlier periods of life fall away, so also do those of old age; and when that happens man has his fill of life and the time is ripe for him to go.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]From a more general point of view, it seems to me that once we have had our fill of all the things that have engaged our interest, we have had our fill of life itself. There are interests that are proper to childhood: does a full-grown man regret their loss? There are interests that belong to early manhood: when we reach full maturity -- what is called “middle age” -- do we look back to them with longing? Middle age itself has its special concerns; even these have lost their attraction for the old. Finally, there are interests peculiar to old age; these fall away, too, just as did those of the earlier years. When this has happened, a sense of the fullness of life tells us that it is time to die.
[tr. Copley (1967)]When we are children, we have childish interests, but do young men miss them? And when we are middle-aged, do we want what young men want? Similarly, old men are not remotely involved in the needs of middle age; they have their own. Therefore we may argue that as the concerns of each earlier stage of life fade away, so eventually do those of old age. And when that happens, we have had enough of life and we are ready for death.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]Then too, I think I can safely say that when the point arrives where you have had enough of life's pursuits -- this isn't boredom but more a fullness or satisfaction -- then you have also had enough of life. There are certain pursuits of childhood which teenagers don't miss, do they? And stable, middle aged adults don't go running after the pursuits of teens, do they? And there are some interests of our middle years. therefore, just as we do not fear or regret when the pursuits of earlier stages fall away, so too the thinking person does not regret the passing of the interests of old age. And when this happens, the fullness of life brings about the time which is ripe for death.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]The fulfilment of all desires,
At least it seems to me, kills all life’s bliss,
And childhood certainly requires
Interests that young people do not miss,
And the tastes of youth’s initial stage
Won’t be sought after in middle age
Whose pursuits seem to be cheerless
To those in their elderliness.
Therefore as the previous life’s urges
Will set like the Sun so will old age’s.
Once life has had its fill there comes the day
On which one may suitably pass away.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]
CREON: A foe, though dead, should as a foe be treated still.
ANTIGONE: My love shall go with them, but not my hate.Κρέων: οὔτοι ποθ᾽ οὑχθρός, οὐδ᾽ ὅταν θάνῃ, φίλος.
Ἀντιγόνη: οὔτοι συνέχθειν, ἀλλὰ συμφιλεῖν ἔφυν.Sophocles (496-406 BC) Greek tragic playwright
Antigone, l. 522ff (441 BC) [tr. Werner (1892)]
(Source)
Original Greek. Alt. trans.:KREON: The foe is ne'er a friend -- not e'en in death.
ANTIGONE: My heart is love's co-mate, not hatred's partner.
[tr. Donaldson (1848)]CREON: Not even death can make a foe a friend.
ANTIGONE: My nature is for mutual love, not hate.
[tr. Storr (1859)]CREON: You do not love someone you have hated, not even after death.
ANTIGONE: It is not my nature to join in hate, but in love.
[tr. Jebb (1891)]CREON: A foe is never a friend -- not even in death.
ANTIGONE: 'Tis not my nature to join in hating, but in loving.
[tr. Jebb (1917)]CREON: An enemy is an enemy, even dead.
ANTIGONE: It is may nature to join in love, not hate.
[tr. Fitts/Fitzgerald (1939)]CREON: An enemy can't be a friend, even when dead.
ANTIGONE: My way is to share my love, not share my hate.
[tr. Watling (1947), ll. 441-42]CREON: No enemy will become a friend in the Underworld.
ANTIGONE: I am for sharing love, not hatred.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]CREON: An enemy
can never be a friend, not even in death.
ANTIGONE: But my nature is to love. I cannot hate.
[tr. Johnston (2005), ll. 596-98]CREON: An enemy is not a friend, even when dead.
ANTIGONE: I cannot share their hate, only their love.
[tr. Thomas]
Therefore, when the young die I am reminded of a strong flame extinguished by a torrent; but when old men die it is as if a fire had gone out without the use of force and of its own accord, after the fuel had been consumed; and, just as apples when they are green are with difficulty plucked from the tree, but when ripe and mellow fall of themselves, so, with the young, death comes as a result of force, while with the old it is the result of ripeness. To me, indeed, the thought of this “ripeness” for death is so pleasant, that the nearer I approach death the more I feel like one who is in sight of land at last and is about to anchor in his home port after a long voyage.
[Itaque adulescentes mihi mori sic videntur, ut cum aquae multitudine flammae vis opprimitur, senes autem sic, ut cum sua sponte nulla adhibita vi consumptus ignis exstinguitur; et quasi poma ex arboribus, cruda si sunt, vix evelluntur, si matura et cocta, decidunt, sic vitam adulescentibus vis aufert, senibus maturitas; quae quidem mihi tam iucunda est, ut, quo propius ad mortem accedam, quasi terram videre videar aliquandoque in portum ex longa navigatione esse venturus.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Senectute [Cato Maior; On Old Age], ch. 19 / sec. 71 (19.71) (44 BC) [tr. Falconer (1923)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:And by that the adolescentes & yong men as me semyth dyen like as old men which quencheth a strong & a right grete fflame of fyre by castyng in of moche watir, and olde men dyen as a fyre which stynteth and wasteth itself or as a candel & the matche in a lampe of oyle consumith withoute doyng violence & withoute any force & strength. I make eftsonys anothir comparison of deth whiche comyth both to yong & olde men ffor as the appils & othir fruytes hangyng on the trees be by force plucked in the meanetyme whiles they be rawe & newe & when they be ripe & melowe by the heete of the sonne they fallen of with their free & playne will & so the deth takith awey by hir violente force the life of yong men and the ripnesse of olde age takith awey the life of olde men softely and withoute force. And this deth whiche comith by ripnesse of long age is so ioyfull and so agreable to me in so moche as I shall applye and come more nygh to it in a convenient season. The deth is also to me noon othirwise ioyfull or agreable than shuld be to me the deye londe if me thought that I shulde see it when I seyle in a ship or swymme in the see to the porte or havyn. And that it were likly that I shuld come to the porte or havyn aftir that I have sey∣led and vyaged long upon the see. That is to witt that deth which comith to the wise man aftir long age is like the porte or haven that men see from ferr in seylyng upon the see whiche doth grete ioye when men be upon the river into the haven warde and to have takyn their porte salve ffor the drede of the parelles and dangers of rokkes sandys and grete tempestys be than passid chaungid and turned in saftee and rest.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]Therefore, young men, in mine opinion, seem so to die as when a raging and violent flame of fire is quenched, with a great quantity or effusion of water; but old men die as if it were fire, which, lacking wood and cumbustible matter to nourish it, goeth out quietly and is quenched, as though it were of his own accord, not forcibly. And as apples which are green and unripe are not plucked from the tree but by a certain violent plucking, but if they be ripe and mellow they fall voluntarily down from teh tree; so likewise, young men depart out of their life by violent force and painful struggling, but old men die by a certain ripeness and maturity. And as often as I think thereon, I am rapt with such joy and comfort, that the nearer I draw and approach to death, the sooner, methink, I see the dry land, and (as it were, afer a long navigation and seafaring voyage) shall at length arrive at the quiet haven ahd port of all rest and security.
[tr. Newton (1569)]Therefore a young man seemeth to me to die like fire put out with water, but old men like fire which being put out by no force, is quietly consumed of it selfe; and as apples on trees being not ripe, are plucked of by violence, but being ripe they fall of themselves: so force taketh away the life of young men, but ripenesse of age the life of old men: which consideration is so pleasant to me, that I seem to behold the earth, as a quiet port, whither after a long and troublesome navigation I shall arrive.
[tr. Austin (1648), ch. 21]All things which Nature did ordain, are good,
And so must be receiv'd, and understood,
Age, like ripe Apples, on earth's bosom drops,
Whil'st force our youth, like fruits untimely crops;
The sparkling flame of our warm blood expires,
As when huge streams are pour'd on raging fires,
But age unforc'd falls by her own consent,
As Coals to ashes, when the Spirit's spent;
Therefore to death I with such joy resort,
As Seamen from a Tempest to their Port.
[tr. Denham (1669)]For this Reason, I think it not so improper, to compare the Death of Youth to Flames extinguished, by a violent and suddain Splash of Water; and that of Riper Years, to such a Fire, as without any Violence, goes out, when all its Fewel is decayed and spent. And as Fruit, when it is green, is torn and plucked with Violence from the Boughs, which, when become more ripe and mellow, falls gently of it self: so Youth departs this Life with Violent Strugles, while Old Age drops off mature with Years. And indeed the Prospect of this is so far from being unpleasant, that the nearer it is, the more delightful does it seem: nor is it less grateful, than the Sight of land can be to one, quite tired with a long and tedious Voyage.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]Thus the Youthful seem, I think, to die like Fire forcibly quench'd with Water, whereas the Aged go smoothly off, and like the Fire burnt to the last Spark, need no Force to be extinguished; or as green Fruit which must be plucked from the Trees, but when ripe falls off it self. Thus do the Young die with Repugnancy, and the Old fall with Maturity. So that Life becomes the pleasanter to me, the nearer I approach its End, thinking to myself the Earth is my Harbour, into which I shall arrive, after a long and tedious Voyage.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]For Young Men seem to be forced from Life, as Fires are extinguished by great Quantities of Water thrown on them; when on the contrary, Old Men expire of themselves, like a Flame when all its Fuel is spent. And as unripe Fruit requires some Force to part it from its native Bough; but when come to full Maturity, it drops of itself, without any Hand to touch it: So Young People die by something violent or unnatural; but the Old by mere Ripeness. The Thoughts of which to me are now become so agreeable, that the nearer I draw to my End, it seems like discovering the Land at Sea, that, after the Tossings of a tedious and stormy Voyage, will yield me a safe and quiet Harbour.
[tr. Logan (1744)]In the latter instance [youth]; the privation of life may be resembled to a fire forcibly extinguished by a deluge of water; in the former [an old man], to a fire spontaneously and gradually going out from a total consumption of its fuel. Or, to have recourse to another illustration; as fruit before it is ripe cannot, without some degree of force, be separated from the stalk, but drops of itself when perfectly mature; so the disunion of the soul and body is effected in the young by dint of violence, but is wrought in the old by a mere fullness and completion of years. This ripeness for death I perceive in myself with much satisfaction; and I look forward to my dissolution as to a secure haven, where I shall at length find a happy repose from the fatigues of a long voyage.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]Therefore young men seem to me to die just as when the force of flame is suddenly overpowered by a mass of water; but old men, just as fire that is spent is extinguished of itself, no violence having been applied to it. And, as apples are pulled from trees by force, if they are unripe; if ripe and mellowed, they fall down; so force takes away life from young men, maturity from old men; which maturity to me, indeed, is so pleasant, that the nearer I approach to death, I seem, as it were, to behold land, and to be about to come, at length, into port form a long voyage.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]And thus it is that young men seem to me to die, just as when the violence of flame is extinguished by a flood of water; whereas old men die, as the exhausted fire goes out, spontaneously, without the exertion of any force: and as fruits when they are green are plucked by force from the trees, but when ripe and mellow drop off, so violence takes away their lives from youths, maturity from old men; a state which to me indeed is so delightful, that the nearer I approach to death, I seem as it were to be getting sight of land, and at length, after a long voyage, to be just coming into harbour.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]Thus young men seem to me to die as when a fierce flame is extinguished by a stream of water; while old men die as when a spent fire goes out of its own accord, without force employed to quench it. Or, as apples, if unripe, are violently wrenched from the tree, while, mature and ripened, they fall, so force takes life from the young, maturity from the old; and this ripeness of old age is to me so pleasant, that, in proportion as I draw near to death, I seem to see land, and after a long voyage to be on the point of entering the harbor.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]Accordingly, the death of young men seems to me like putting out a great fire with a deluge of water; but old men die like a fire going out because it has burnt down of its own nature without artificial means. Again, just as apples when unripe are torn from trees, but when ripe and mellow drop down, so it is violence that takes life from young men, ripeness from old. This ripeness is so delightful to me, that, as I approach nearer to death, I seem as it were to be sighting land, and to be coming to port at last after a long voyage.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]The death of the young seems to me to resemble the sudden extinction of a flame with volumes of water; the old seem rather to die as a fire which flickers out of itself.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]To them it comes
It seems to me, as when a fire is quenched
By streams of water: to the old it comes
As when a fire dies slowly down itself:
Just so the apples, when unripe, are torn
With violence from the boughs: if ripe with age
They gently fall: and so the life of youth
Is taken by some violent attack;
The old man's troublous age comes gently to an end.
To me this seems so pleasant, that I feel
The nearer that I draw towards the end,
I sight the land, and see before my eyes
The harbour waiting to receive the bark
Which long as voyaged on the toilsome sea.
[tr. Allison (1916)]It seems to me that the death of a young man is like the drowning of a blazing flame by a flood of water, whereas the death of the old is like the gradual, utterly gentle and spontaneous flickering out of a fire that has used up its fuel. Fruits, too, if they are green, must be forcefully pulled from the bough, but if they are ripe and mellow, they drop off. So it is with the life of man: from the young, it is taken by violence, from the old, by the fullness of time. This is a thought that gives me great comfort; as I come closer and closer to death, I seem, so to speak, to see the land and to be at last about to come into harbor after a long sea-journey.
[tr. Copley (1967)]Death at an early age seems to me like a fire that has suddenly been swamped by a bucket of water; but death in old age is like a fire that has not been extinguished but has gone out of its own accord, because it has used up all its fuel. When an apple is not yet ripe, it takes some work to tug it off the branch; but when it is fully ripe, it simply falls to the ground. In the same way, though some act of violence may snatch life from the young, the old are ready to die. And that to me is a pleasant thought -- so much so that the nearer I get to death, the more I feel like a sailor who, after a long voyage, has made landfall and is about to tie up in his home port.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]When a young person dies, it seems to me to be like a vigorous flame being put out by a fire hose; with old people, on the other hand, the flame is extinguished, having burned itself out on its own accord with no violent outside force. When unripe apples are plucked from trees it takes real force, but the mature and mellow ones fall gently and naturally. Violence carries life away from the young, from the old it is ripeness. And, you know, the ripeness is so pleasant to me that the nearer I approach death, the more I see it as land and that at last I am about to come into port after a long voyage.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]Therefore young people, it seems to me, pass
Away like tall flames put out by a large mass
Of water while old men die out like the fumes
Of an unquenchable fire which consumes
Itself without recourse to another force.
And just as unripe fruits are hard to pluck
From the trees to which they’re closely stuck,
But once mature and fully grown
Drop down to the ground on their own,
So young lives are cut down by ferocity
While old ones are spent by maturity.
A maturity to me so suave
The nearer I get to the grave.
It also seems to me as though
I were almost shouting land-ho!
On reaching the port of destination
After a very long navigation.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]A young person dying reminds me of a fire extinguished by a deluge. But when an old person dies, it is like a flame that diminishes gradually and flickers away of its own accord with no force applied after its fuel has been used up. In the same way, green apples are hard to pick from a tree, but when ripe and ready they fall to the ground by themselves. So death comes to the young with force, but to the old when the time is right. To me there is great comfort in this idea, so that as death grows nearer, the more I feel like a traveler who at last sees the land of his home port after a long voyage.
[tr. Freeman (2016)]
You are neither the first nor the last of mortals
to lose a good wife. You have to learn
that death is a debt we all must pay.[οὐ γάρ τι πρῶτος οὐδὲ λοίσθιος βροτῶν
γυναικὸς ἐσθλῆς ἤμπλακες· γίγνωσκε δὲ
ὡς πᾶσιν ἡμῖν κατθανεῖν ὀφείλεται.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Alcestis [Ἄλκηστις], c. l. 415 [Chorus] (438 BC) [tr. Leuschnig]
(Source)
Alt. trans.:Thou art by no means the first nor yet shalt be the last of men to lose a wife of worth; know this, we all of us are debtors unto death.
[tr. Coleridge (1910)]Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first,
To lose a noble wife. Be brave, and know
To die is but a debt that all men owe.
[tr. Murray (1915)]Not first of mortals thou, nor shalt be last
To lose a noble wife; and, be thou sure,
From us, from all, this debt is due -- to die.
[tr. Way (1984)]You are neither the first nor the last mortal
Who has lost a good wife. Understand this:
Dying is a debt we all have to pay.
[tr. @sentantiq (2020)]
To Beatrice–
My love flew like a butterfly,
Until death swooped down like a bat,
As the poet Emma Montana McElroy said:
“That’s the end of that.”Lemony Snicket (b. 1970) American author, screenwriter, musician (pseud. for Daniel Handler)
The Miserable Mill, Dedication (2000)
(Source)
More on the referenced poet.
But if I am to die before my time, I count that a gain. When anyone lives as I do, surrounded by evils, how can he not carry off gain by dying?
[εἰ δὲ τοῦ χρόνου
πρόσθεν θανοῦμαι, κέρδος αὔτ᾽ ἐγὼ λέγω.
ὅστις γὰρ ἐν πολλοῖσιν ὡς ἐγὼ κακοῖς
ζῇ, πῶς ὅδ᾽ Οὐχὶ κατθανὼν κέρδος φέρει]Sophocles (496-406 BC) Greek tragic playwright
Antigone, l. 460 ff [Antigone] (441 BC) [tr. Jebb (1891)]
(Source)
Alt. trans.:But if I am to die before my time, I count that a gain: for when any one lives, as I do, compassed about with evils, can such an one find aught but gain in death?
[tr. Jebb (1917)]And if my time is shortened, this to me
Is gain indeed. For whoso lives, as I live,
Beset with many sorrows, how does he
Not win by dying?
[tr. Donaldson (1848)]If death
Is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain
For death is gain to him whose life, like mine,
Is full of misery.
[tr. Storr (1859)]And now, if I fall
A little sooner, 'tis the thing I wish.
To thou, who live in misery like me,
Believe me, King, 'tis happiness to die.
[tr. Werner (1892)]But if I die young, all the better:
People who live in misery like mine
Are better dead.
[tr. Woodruff (2001)]I knew that my death was imminent, of course I did, and even if it came sooner, I would still think it a good thing because when one lives in such a dreadful misery why should he not think death to be a good thing?
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]And if I have to die
before my time, well, I count that a gain.
When someone has to live the way I do,
surrounded by so many evil things,
how can she fail to find a benefit
in death?
[tr. Johnston (2005), l. 521ff]If I die
before my time, I say it is a gain.
Who lives in sorrows many as are mine
how shall he not be glad to gain his death?
[tr. Wyckoff]But if
I shall die before my time, I declare it a profit,
for whoever lives beset, as I do, by many things evil,
how does he not gain profit by dying?
[tr. Tyrrell/Bennett]
CHARLIE ANDERSON: There’s nothing much I can tell you about this war. It’s like all wars, I suppose. The undertakers are winning it. Oh, the politicians will talk a lot about the “glory” of it, and the old men’ll talk about the “need” of it — the soldiers, they just want to go home.
He bent drooping his head to one side, as a garden poppy
bends beneath the weight of its yield and the rains of springtime;
so his head bent slack to one side beneath the helm’s weight.[Μήκων δ’ ὡς ἑτέρωσε κάρη βάλεν, ἥ τ’ ἐνὶ κήπῳ
καρπῷ βριθομένη νοτίῃσί τε εἰαρινῇσιν,
ὣς ἑτέρωσ’ ἤμυσε κάρη πήληκι βαρυνθέν.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 8, l. 306ff (8.306-308) (c. 750 BC) [tr. Lattimore (1951)]
(Source)
Describing the death of Gorgythion, son of Priam.
Alt. trans.:And, as a crimson poppy flow’r, surchargéd with his seed,
And vernal humours falling thick, declines his heavy brow,
So, of one side, his helmet’s weight his fainting head did bow.
[tr. Chapman (1611), ll. 265-67]As full-blown poppies, overcharged with rain,
Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain, --
So sinks the youth; his beauteous head, depressed
Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast.
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]As in the garden, with the weight surcharged
Of its own fruit, and drench’d by vernal rains
The poppy falls oblique, so he his head
Hung languid, by his helmet’s weight depress’d.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 351ff]And as a poppy, which in the garden is weighed down with fruit and vernal showers, droops its head to one side, so did his head incline aside, depressed by the helmet.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]Down sank his head, as in a garden sinks
A ripen'd poppy charg'd with vernal rains;
So sank his head beneath his helmet's weight.
[tr. Derby (1864), ll. 349-51]Now he bowed his head as a garden poppy in full bloom when it is weighed down by showers in spring -- even thus heavy bowed his head beneath the weight of his helmet.
[tr. Butler (1898)]And he bowed his head to one side like a poppy that in a garden is laden with its fruit and the rains of spring; so bowed he to one side his head, laden with his helmet.
[tr. Murray (1924)]Fallen on one side, as on the stalk a poppy falls, weighed down by showring spring, beneath his helmet's weight his head sank down.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]As a garden poppy, burst into red bloom, bends
by its full seeds and a sudden spring shower,
so Gorgythion's head fell limp over one shoulder,
weighed down by his helmet.
[tr. Fagles (1990), ll. 349-53]Off to one side his head he let drop, like a poppy that in some
garden is heavy with its own seed and the showers of springtime --
so to one side did his head incline, weighed down by his helmet.
[tr. Merrill (2007), ll. 306-08]
And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it,
neither brave man nor coward, I tell you —
it’s born with us the day that we are born.[Μοῖραν δ’ οὔ τινά φημι πεφυγμένον ἔμμεναι ἀνδρῶν,
οὐ κακὸν οὐδὲ μὲν ἐσθλόν, ἐπὴν τὰ πρῶτα γένηται.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 6, l. 488ff (6.488-489) (c. 750 BC) [tr. Fagles (1990), ll. 582-84]
Hector bidding his wife farewell. Alt. trans.:And fate, whose wings can fly?
Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die.
[tr. Chapman (1611), ll. 528-29]Fixed is the term to all the race of earth,
And such the hard condition of our birth.
No force can then resist, no flight can save;
All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]Nor lives he who can overpass the date
By heaven assign’d him, be he base or brave
[tr. Cowper (1791), ll. 595-96]But I think there is no one of men who has escaped fate, neither the coward nor the brave man, after he has once been born.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]If a man's hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born.
[tr. Butler (1898)]Only his doom, methinks, no man hath ever escaped, be he coward or valiant, when once he hath been born.
[tr. Murray (1924)]No mortal, either, can escape his fate, coward or brave man, once he comes to be.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]
As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity.
The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber
Burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning.
So one generation of men will grow while another dies.[Οἵη περ φύλλων γενεὴ τοίη δὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν.
φύλλα τὰ μέν τ’ ἄνεμος χαμάδις χέει, ἄλλα δέ θ’ ὕλη
τηλεθόωσα φύει, ἔαρος δ’ ἐπιγίγνεται ὥρη·
ὣς ἀνδρῶν γενεὴ ἣ μὲν φύει ἣ δ’ ἀπολήγει.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 6, l. 146ff (6.146-149) (c. 750 BC) [tr. Lattimore (1951)]
(Source)Like the race of leaves
The race of man is, that deserves no question; nor receives
My being any other breath? The wind in autumn strows
The earth with old leaves, then the spring the woods with new endows;
And so death scatters men on earth, so life puts out again
Man’s leavy issue.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 141ff]Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground:
Another race the following spring supplies,
They fall successive, and successive rise:
So generations in their course decay;
So flourish these, when those are past away.
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]For, as the leaves, such is the race of man.
The wind shakes down the leaves, the budding grove
Soon teems with others, and in spring they grow.
So pass mankind. One generation meets
Its destined period, and a new succeeds.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 175ff]As is the race of leaves, even such is the race of men. Some leaves the wind sheds upon the ground, but the fructifying wood produces others, and these grow up in the season of spring. Such is the generation of men; one produces, another ceases.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]The race of man is as the race of leaves:
Of leaves, one generation by the wind
Is scatter'd on the earth; another soon
In spring's luxuriant verdure bursts to light.
So with our race; these flourish, those decay.
[tr. Derby (1864)]Even as are the generations of leaves such are those likewise of men; the leaves that be the wind scattereth on the earth, and the forest buddeth and putteth forth more again, when the season of spring is at hand; so of the generations of men one putteth forth and another ceaseth.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]Men come and go as leaves year by year upon the trees. Those of autumn the wind sheds upon the ground, but when spring returns the forest buds forth with fresh vines. Even so is it with the generations of mankind, the new spring up as the old are passing away.
[tr. Butler (1898)]Even as are the generations of leaves, such are those also of men. As for the leaves, the wind scattereth some upon the earth, but the forest, as it bourgeons, putteth forth others when the season of spring is come; even so of men one generation springeth up and another passeth away.
[tr. Murray (1924)]Very like leaves upon this earth are the generations of men -- old leaves, cast on the ground by wind, young leaves the greening forest bears when spring comes in. So mortals pass; one generation flowers even as another dies away.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.
Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth,
now the living timber bursts with the new buds
and spring comes round again. And so with men:
as one generation comes to life, another dies away.
[tr. Fagles (1990), ll. 171-75]
Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will not say it shall be so, but rather I will say, here in this world he changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb this verse: Hic jacet Arthurus Rex, quondam Rex que futurus.
[Here lies Arthur, the once and future king.]
For, though th’ ascent be rough, and steep the fall,
Ambition has but one reward for all:
A little power, a little transient fame,
A grave to rest in, and a fading name!William Winter (1836-1917) American dramatic critic and author
“The Queen’s Domain,” The Queen’s Domain, and Other Poems (1858)
(Source)
Rage — Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles,
murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,
hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,
great fighters’ souls, but made their bodies carrion,
feasts for the dogs and birds.[Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεά, Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος
οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε,
πολλὰς δ᾽ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προΐαψεν
ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν
οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι.]Homer (fl. 7th-8th C. BC) Greek author
The Iliad [Ἰλιάς], Book 1, l. 1ff (1.1-5) (c. 750 BC) [tr. Fagles (1990)]
Original Greek. Alternate translation:The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring
Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing!
That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain,
Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore ....
[tr. Pope (1715-20)]Achilles sing, O Goddess! Peleus' son;
His wrath pernicious, who ten thousand woes
Caused to Achaia’s host, sent many a soul
Illustrious into Ades premature,
And Heroes gave (so stood the will of Jove)
To dogs and to all ravening fowls a prey.
[tr. Cowper (1791)]Sing, O goddess, the destructive wrath of Achilles, son of Peleus, which brought countless woes upon the Greeks, and hurled many valiant souls of heroes down to Hades, and made themselves a prey to dogs and to all birds ....
[tr. Buckley (1860)]Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse,
The vengeance, deep and deadly; wence to Greece
Unnumber'd ills arose; which many a soul
Of mighty warriors to the viewless shades
Untimely sent; they on the battle plain
Unburied lay, a prey to rav'ning dogs,
And carrion birds ....
[tr. Derby (1864)]Sing, goddess, the wrath of Achilles Peleus' son, the ruinous wrath that brought on the Achaians woes innumerable, and hurled down into Hades many strong souls of heroes, and gave their bodies to be a prey to dogs and all winged fowls ....
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]Sing, O goddess, the rage of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures ....
[tr. Butler (1898)]The wrath sing, goddess, of Peleus' son, Achilles, that destructive wrath which brought countless woes upon the Achaeans, and sent forth to Hades many valiant souls of heroes, and made them themselves spoil for dogs and every bird ....
[tr. Murray (1924)]Anger be now your song, immortal one,
Achilles' anger, doomed and ruinous,
that cause the Achaeans loss on bitter loss
and crowded brave souls into the undergloom,
leaving so many dead men -- carrion
for dogs and birds ....
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]Sing now, goddess, the wrath of Achilles the scion of Peleus,
ruinous rage which brought the Achaians uncounted afflictions;
many the powerful souls it sent to the dwellings of Hades,
those of the heroes, and spoil for the dogs it made of their bodies,
plunder for all of the birds ....
[tr. Merrill (2007)]
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.Edmund Spenser (c. 1552-1599) English poet
The Faerie Queene, Book 1, Canto 9, st. 40 (1589-96)
(Source)
Trust me, the being-dead part is much easier than the dying part. If you can watch much television, then being dead will be a cinch. Actually, watching television and surfing the Internet are really excellent practice for being dead.
I’d rather die on my feet, than live on my knees.
[Prefiero morir de pie que vivir de rodillas.]
Emiliano Zapata 1879-1919) Mexican revolutionary, reformer [Emiliano Zapata Salazar]
(Attributed)
Often misattributed to Che Guevara, José Martí, and other revolutionaries. Popularized by "La Pasionaria" Dolores Ibárruri, during her speeches and broadcasts in the Spanish Civil War. More discussion here.
Alternate versions/translations:
- "I'd prefer to die standing, than to live always on my knees! [¡Prefiero morir de pie que vivir siempre arrodillado!]"
- "Men of the South! It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees!"
- "I would rather die standing than live on my knees!"
- "It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees!"
- "I prefer to die standing than to live forever kneeling."
- "Prefer death on your feet to living on your knees."
It costs me never a stab nor squirm
To tread by chance upon a worm.
“Aha, my little dear,” I say,
“Your clan will pay me back some day.”Dorothy Parker (1893-1967) American writer, poet, wit
“Thoughts for a Sunshiny Morning,” New Yorker (3 Apr 1927)
(Source)
Reprinted in Sunset Gun (1927).
The concentration camps, by making death itself anonymous (making it impossible to find out whether a prisoner is dead or alive), robbed death of its meaning as the end of a fulfilled life. In a sense they took away the individual’s own death, proving that henceforth nothing belonged to him and he belonged to no one. His death merely set a seal on the fact that he had never existed.
Hannah Arendt (1906-1975) German-American philosopher, political theorist
The Origins of Totalitarianism, Part 3, ch. 12 “Totalitarianism in Power,” sec. 3 (1951)
(Source)
The difficulty is not so much to die for a friend, as to find a friend worth dying for.
Henry Home, Lord Kames (1696-1782) Scottish jurist, agriculturalist, philosopher, writer
Introduction to the Art of Thinking, ch. 1, “Friendship” (1761)
(Source)
Often misattributed to Homer. See John 15:13.
Drink and dance and laugh and lie,
Love, the reeling midnight through,
For tomorrow we shall die!
(But, alas, we never do.)Dorothy Parker (1893-1967) American writer, poet, wit
“The Flaw in Paganism,” Death and Taxes (1931)
(Source)
Oh, let it be a night of lyric rain
And singing breezes, when my bell is tolled.
I have so loved the rain that I would hold
Last in my ears its friendly, dim refrain.Dorothy Parker (1893-1967) American writer, poet, wit
“Testament,” Not So Deep as a Well (1936)
(Source)
Life is so sweet! One can die but once, and it is for such a long time!
[Il est si doux de vivre: On ne meurt qu’une fois; et c’est pour si long-tems (longtemps)!]
Molière (1622-1673) French playwright, actor [stage name for Jean-Baptiste Poquelin]
The Love-Tiff [Le Dépit Amoureux], Act 5, sc. 4 (1656) [tr. Van Laun (1875)]
(Source)
Alt. trans.: "Life is so sweet! We die only once, and for such a long time!" [Lovers' Quarrels, tr. Wall (1879)]
Original French text.
But if physical death is the price that a man must pay to free his children and his white brethren from a permanent death of the spirit, then nothing could be more redemptive. This is the type of soul force that I am convinced will triumph over the physical force of the oppressor.
Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) American clergyman, civil rights leader, social activist, preacher
“The Rising Tide of Racial Consciousness,” Speech, National Urban League, New York (6 Sep 1960)
(Source)
Making money ain’t nothing exciting to me. … You might be able to buy a little better booze than some wino on the corner. But you get sick just like the next cat, and when you die you’re just as graveyard dead as he is.
As to a hereafter, we have not the slightest evidence that there is any — no evidence that appeals to logic and reason. I have never seen what to me seemed an atom of proof that there is a future life. And yet — I am strongly inclined to expect one.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
Quoted in Albert Bigelow Paine, Mark Twain: A Biography, Vol. 4, ch. 264 (1922)
(Source)
Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate:
“To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods?Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-1859) English writer and politician
“Horatius,” st. 27, Lays of Ancient Rome (1842)
(Source)
After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack for choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.
How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.
Do I seem to say, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?” Far from it; on the contrary, I say, “Let us take hands and help, for this day we are alive together.”
William Kingdon Clifford (1845-1879) English mathematician and philosopher
“The First and the Last Catastrophe,” Popular Science Monthly (Jul 1875)
(Source)
I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead: men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with newspaper brains, television souls and high school ideals.
Charles Bukowski (1920-1994) German-American author, poet
Sunlight Here I Am: Interviews and Encounters, 1963-1993 (2003)
(Source)
When asked his reaction to the assassination of John Kennedy.
Yes, he thought, between grief and nothing I will take grief.
William Faulkner (1897-1962) American novelist
The Wild Palms [If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem], ch. 9 (1939)
(Source)
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursed lot.Claude McKay (1889-1948) Jamaican-American writer, poet, journalist
“If We Must Die,” The Liberator (Jul 1919)
(Source)
Always struck by the “comical” aspect of everything in Algeria connected with death. I find nothing more justified. Impossible to exaggerate the ridiculous quality of an event that is normally accompanied by sweat and gurgling. Similarly, it could not be too far demoted from the sacred status normally attributed to it. Nothing is more despicable than respect based on fear. And from this point of view, death is no more worthy of respect than Nero or the inspector at my local police station.
Albert Camus (1913-1960) Algerian-French novelist, essayist, playwright
Notebooks: 1935-1942, Notebook 3, Nov 1939 [tr. Thody (1963)]
(Source)
There’s nothing noble about dying. Not even if you die for honor. Not even if you die the greatest hero the world ever saw. Not even if you’re so great your name will never be forgotten and who’s that great? The most important thing is your life, little guys. You’re worth nothing dead except for speeches. Don’t let them kid you any more. Pay no attention when they tap you on the shoulder and say come along we’ve got to fight for liberty, or whatever their word is. There’s always a word.
Dalton Trumbo (1905-1976) American screenwriter and novelist [James Dalton Trumbo]
Johnny Got His Gun (1938)
(Source)
You can always hear the people who are willing to sacrifice somebody else’s life. They’re plenty loud and they talk all the time. You can find them in churches and schools and newspapers and congresses. That’s their business. They sound wonderful. Death before dishonor. This ground sanctified by blood. These men who died so gloriously. They shall not have died in vain. Our noble dead.
Hmmmm.
But what do the dead say?
Did anybody ever come back from the dead any single one of the millions who got killed did any one of them ever come back and say by god I’m glad I’m dead because death is always better than dishonor? Did they say I’m glad i died to make the world safe for democracy? Did they say i like death better than losing liberty? Did any of them ever say it’s good to think i got my guts blown out for the honor of my country? Did any of them ever say look at me i’m dead but i died for decency and that’s better than being alive? Did any of them ever say here i am, i’ve been rotting for two years in a foreign grave but it’s wonderful to die for your native land? Did any of them say hurray I died for womanhood and I’m happy, see how I sing even though my mouth is choked with worms?
Dalton Trumbo (1905-1976) American screenwriter and novelist [James Dalton Trumbo]
Johnny Got His Gun (1938)
(Source)
SPARTACUS: When a free man dies, he loses the pleasure of life. A slave loses his pain. Death is the only freedom a slave knows. That’s why he’s not afraid of it. That’s why we’ll win.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold itagainst your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Is life a boon?
If so, it must befall
That Death, when ere he call
Must call too soon.
Though fourscore years give
Yet one would pray to live
Another moon.W. S. Gilbert (1836-1911) English playwright [William Schwenck Gilbert]
The Yeomen of the Guard, Act 1, No. 5 [Col. Fairfax] (1888) [with Arthur Sullivan, comp.]
(Source)
Sorrow makes us all children again, destroys all difference of intellect. The wisest knows nothing.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
Journal (1842-01-30)
(Source)
Two days after he recorded the death of his son.
My son, a perfect little boy of five years and three months, had ended his earthly life. You can never sympathize with me; you can never know how much of me such a young child can take away. A few weeks ago I accounted myself a very rich man, and now the poorest of all.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
Letter to Thomas Carlyle (1842-02-28)
(Source)
Yet soft, my books, no haste, nor hurry fate;
If fame must wait on death, then let it wait.[Vos tamen o nostri ne festinate libelli:
Si post fata venit gloria, non propero.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 5, epigram 10 (5.10.11-12) (AD 90) [tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
(Source)
Compare to Epigram 1.25.
"To Regulus." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:But haste not you (my Bookes) for Fame, to whom
Tis soone enough if after death it come.
[tr. May (1629)]Let others to the Printing Presse run fast.
Since after death comes glory, Ile not haste.
[tr. Herrick (1648)]O my small books, ne'er hasten to go out:
If praise come after death, I'll not go on.
[tr. Fletcher (1656)]Yet you (my Bookes!) hast not to much, I pray:
If fame come not till after death, I'll stay.
[British Library MS Add. 27343]With patience then, my Muse, to glory hy:
If after death she come, I shall not dy.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), 3.62]Do not, however, you little books of mine, be in haste for fame:
if glory comes only after death, I am in no hurry for it.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]If I gain fame after my death, I am content to wait.
[tr. Paley/Stone (1890), ep. 221]Therefore, little books of mine,
Haste not; if glory comes but after death,
I'll wait awhile for glory.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]Pray, my impatient Muse, don't worry.
If death's due first, I'm in no hurry.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), ep. 221]Impatient little books of verse
For the plaudits of the universe,
If fame comes only after death,
Let's pause and rest, and catch our breath.
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]But there's no cause, my little books, to worry:
If glory must be posthumous, why hurry?
[tr. Michie (1972)]So, little books, let's not rush to our fate.
Since death comes before glory, let's be late.
[tr. Matthews (1992)]So be calm, my Muse -- no need to rush or fret:
If death must precede fame, I'll not be famous yet.
[tr. Ericsson (1995)]If I must die to get my fame,
I gladly will put off the same.
[tr. Wills (2007)]Then be content, my books, to be slow paced;
Death before glory means -- no need for haste.
[tr. Pitt-Kethley (2008)]But you, my little books, don’t hurry:
if glory comes only after death, I will not rush.
[tr. Robinson (2022)]If glory comes after death, I hurry not.
[tr. Rush]
What do you suppose makes all men look back to the time of childhood with so much regret (if their childhood has been, in any moderate degree, healthy or peaceful)? That rich charm, which the least possession had for us, was in consequence of the poorness of our treasures. That miraculous aspect of the nature around us, was because we had seen little, and knew less. Each increased possession loads us with a new weariness; every piece of new knowledge diminishes the faculty of admiration; and Death is at last appointed to take us from a scene in which, if we were to stay longer, no gift could satisfy us, and no miracle surprise.
John Ruskin (1819-1900) English art critic, painter, writer, social thinker
The Eagle’s Nest, Lecture 5 “The Power of Contentment in Science and Art,” Sec. 82 (22 Feb 1872)
(Source)
But man is a Noble Animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave, solemnizing Nativities and Deaths with equall lustre, nor omitting Ceremonies of bravery, in the infamy of his nature.
Thomas Browne (1605-1682) English physician and author
Hydriotaphia, or Urne-Buriall, ch. 5 (1658)
(Source)
Dying is an art.
Like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I have a call.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) Welsh poet and writer
“Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night” (1947)
(Source)
First published in Botteghe Oscure (Nov 1951).
The King in a carriage may ride,
And the Beggar may crawl at his side;
But in the general race,
They are traveling all the same pace.Edward FitzGerald (1809-1883) English writer, poet, translator
“Chronomoros,” l. 57ff, Chambers’s Edinburgh Journal (5 Dec 1840)
(Source)
Why fight off fame now beating at your door?
What other writers dare to promise more?
You must make immortality start now,
Not make it wait to give your corpse a bow.[Ante fores stantem dubitas admittere Famam
Teque piget curae praemia ferre tuae?
Post te victurae per te quoque vivere chartae
Incipiant: cineri gloria sera venit.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 1, epigram 25 (1.25.5-8) (AD 85-86) [tr. Wills (2007)]
(Source)
"To Faustinus." (Source (Latin)). Some early writers number this as ep. 26, as noted. Alternate translations:Wilt not admit fame standing at thy doore?
And take the fruit of all thy paines before?
Fame to the Urne comes late; let those Books live
With thee, which after life to thee must give.
[tr. May (1629), 1.26]Dost doubt t'admit Fame standing at thy gate?
Thy labour's just reward to bear, dost hate?
That which will after, in thy time let live:
Too late men praise unto our ashes give.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]Fame at your portal waits; the door why barr'd?
Why loth to take your labour's just reward?
Let works live with you, which will long survive;
For honours after death too late arrive.
[tr. Hay (1755), 1.26]Admit fair fame, who dances at thy door;
And dain to reap thyself thy toil's reward.
The strains that shall survive thee, give to soar;
Nor to thine ashes leave the late record.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), 2.34]Do you hesitate to let in Fame when standing for admittance before your threshold, and does it grieve you to reap the rewards of your own diligence? May your poems, which will survive you, begin to live by your means. The glory which is shed upon ashes arrives full late.
[tr. Amos (1858), 1.26 "Posthumous Works"]Do you hesitate to admit Fame, who is standing before your door; and does it displease you to receive the reward of your labour? Let the writings, destined to live after you, begin to live through your means. Glory comes too late, when paid only to our ashes.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]If after thee thy verses are to live,
Let them begin whilst thou'rt alive. Too late
The glory that illumines but they tomb.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]Do you hesitate to admit Fame that stands before your doors, and shrink from winning the reward of your care? Let writings that will live after you by your adi also begin to live now; to the ashes of the dead glory comes too late.
[tr. Ker (1919)]Nay, doth it irk you that reward is nigh?
Why bar out fame who standeth at the gate?
Give birth to what must live, before you die,
For honour paid to ashes comes too late.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]Fame stands before your threshold, let her in;
Are you ashamed your meed of praise to win?
Your books will long outlive you in their fame;
Come then, begin, for ashes have no name.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #14]Tell me why you hesitate;
Fame is standing at your door.
Take the prize she long has offered,
Long has held for you in store!
Let works that will survive you after
You have trod the path so dread
Live now, while you still are living.
Fame comes too late to the dead.
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]Fame is at the door,
and you keep her waiting.
You can't bring yourself to accept
the reward of your worry?
Hurry!
Let those pages begin to live -- show your face.
They will live on after you're gone in any case.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]Do you hesitate to let Fame in when she stands at your door? Are you reluctant to take the reward for your pains? Your pages will live after you; let them also begin to live through you. Glory comes late to the grave.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
Amos (above) provides a number of examples where the last line has inspired other writers. Byron wrote, in the same vein, in "Martial, Lib. I, Epig. I" (c. 1821):He unto whom thou art so partial,
O reader! is the well-known Martial,
The Epigrammatist: while living
Give him the fame thou wouldst be giving;
So shall he hear, and feel, and know it --
Post-obits rarely reach a poet.
Man is so built that he cannot imagine his own death. This leads to endless invention of religions. While this conviction by no means proves immortality to be a fact, questions generated by it are overwhelmingly important. The nature of life, how ego hooks into the body, the problem of ego itself and why each ego seems to be the center of the universe, the purpose of life, the purpose of the universe — these are paramount questions, Ben; they can never be trivial. Science hasn’t solved them — and who am I to sneer at religions for trying, no matter how unconvincingly to me? Old Mumbo Jumbo may eat me yet; I can’t rule him out because he owns no fancy cathedrals. Nor can I rule out one godstruck boy leading a sex cult in an upholstered attic; he might be the Messiah. The only religious opinion I feel sure of is this: self-awareness is not just a bunch of amino acids bumping together!
Robert A. Heinlein (1907-1988) American writer
Stranger in a Strange Land, Part 4, ch. 33 [Jubal] (1961)
(Source)
In the "uncut" original version (1960): "Self-aware man is so built that he cannot believe in his own extinction ... and this automatically leads to endless invention of religions. While this involuntary conviction of immortality by no means proves immortality to be a fact, the questions generated by this conviction are overwhelmingly important ... whether we can answer them or not, or prove what answers we suspect. The nature of life, how the ego hooks into the physical body, the problem of the ego itself and why each ego seems to be the center of the universe, the purpose of life, the purpose of the universe -- these are paramount questions Ben; they can never be trivial. Science can't, or hasn't, coped with any of them -- and who am I to sneer at religions for trying to answer them, no matter how unconvincingly to me? Old Mumbo Jumbo may eat me yet; I can't rule Him out because He owns no fancy cathedrals. Nor can I rule out one godstruck boy leading a sex cult in an upholstered attic; he might be the Messiah. The only religious opinion that I feel sure of is this: self-awareness is not just a bunch of amino acids bumping together!"
So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again;
Ancient and holy things fade like a dream.Charles Kingsley (1819-1875) English clergyman, historian, essayist, novelist (pseud. "Parson Lot")
“Old and New,” ll. 3–4 (1848)
(Source)