Death (n.) is the very signature of the ‘with’: the dead are those no longer with us, who nonetheless take their place by its exact measure.
Death (n.) is never died alone: I cannot die in another’s place, yet the other dies insofar as he is with me — we are born and die to one another.
Death (n.) is the very opposite of murder — which is why murder always misses death.
Death (n.) is the one experience a collectivity cannot turn into its work or its property: honor its heroes as it will, past a certain point death bares a meaninglessness nothing can absorb.
Death (n.) has had no place in our universe since Leibniz: an absolute circulation of meaning — values, ends, History — soaks up every finite loss and wrings from each life a surplus value of humanity.