It is strange that they will make ado when a man's body is buried, but not when he thus really and tragically dies, or seems to die.
(Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Letter, December 29, 1847, to Ralph Waldo Emerson, in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 6, p. 146, Houghton Mifflin (1906).)
Liberation is in dying successfully. It is not so easy to die. That is why we return back again and again to the clutch of death which we call life. To die successfully, perfectly, completely is not to take a physical birth again.
'...ek strooi stadig en suinig my laaste bietjie bruin-suiker in die vallei langs jou linker-wang, `n paar sagte korrels in die droë rivierbedding onder jou regter-oog en die soet geur van swart koffie tussen jou harde lippe wat angstig wag...'
I have heard a good many pretend that they are going to die; or that they have died, for aught that I know. Nonsense! I'll defy them to do it. They have n't got life enough in them.... Only half a dozen or so have died since the world began.
(Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "A Plea for Captain John Brown" (1859), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 4, p. 435, Houghton Mifflin (1906).)