Death (n.) comes to a living thing because it is in itself the universal, the genus, while existing only as a particular.
Death (n.) under the Terror is the coldest, flattest death, meaning no more than cutting through a cabbage-head or swallowing a draught of water.
Death (n.) is the fruition of finite things on Hegel's deeper view: they perish precisely because they are attempts to embody the infinite.
Death (n.) is how spirit corrects the world's distortion of its message: what no single thing can say is said by things coming to be and passing away.
Death (n.) stops being an 'other' once we see ourselves as vehicles of universal reason: it is part of the plan, and in that sense we are already beyond it.
Death (n.) is doubly reconciled for the man who identifies with something universal: it is not total, since what he lives for survives, and he understands why it must be.
Death (n.) comes in the end through some footling mechanical failure, a heart that fails as a pump; if not this one, it would have been another, for a finite embodied subject must die.