The reason for such an “unreasonable” attitude with me is that I am not at all sure what will happen to me after death. I have good reasons to assume that things are not finished with death. Life seems to be an interlude in a long story.
Just where death is expecting you is something we cannot know; so, for your part, expect him everywhere.
Nothing, they say is more certain than death, and nothing more uncertain than the time of dying
You just never know when you're going into eternity.
We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance.
Everyone dies. It's a question of where and how, that's all.
It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.
Death would be a complete knowingness, but what frightened him was this: not knowing beforehand what it was he would know.
It's unknown the place and uncertain the time where death awaits you; thus you must expect death to find you, every time, at every place.
The one certain thing was that death never came at an expected moment.
What is certain in death is somewhat softened by what is uncertain; it is an indefiniteness in the time, which holds a certain relation to the infinite, and what is called eternity.
Whatever is certain in death is slightly alleviated by what is not so infallible; the time when it shall happen is undefined, but it is more or less connected with the infinite, and what we call eternity.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.
We are born with two incurable diseases, life, from which we die, and hope, which says maybe death isn't the end.
We are not meant to know the time or the nature of our deaths (for all of us secretly hope that we may be immortal).
Perhaps the best proof of the Almighty's existence is that we never know when we are to die.
It's inevitable that you will die, so the only question is when. The great thrillers are the moments that play and tease with the question, "When will it be?"
None of us can choose the manner of our passing.
The uncertainty of death is, in effect, the great support of the whole system of life.
A man rarely knows the day and hour when he will die. I could be killed any moment and there's not a blasted thing I can do about it.
One of the quainter quirks of life is that we shall never know who dies on the dame day as we do ourselves.
