Some die too young, some die too old; the precept sounds strange, but die at the right age.

Our life is made by the death of others.

In life, we weep at the thought of death. In death, perhaps we weep at the thought of life.

Who knows if to live is to be dead, and to be dead, to live? And we really, it may be, are dead; in fact I once heard sages say that we are now dead, and the body is our tomb.

You live you die and death not ends it.

Death is close enough at hand so we do not need to be afraid of life.