Fear of death (n.) comes into life with every animal: those vulnerable to raptors tremble at the shadows of birds flying overhead.
Fear of death (n.) is what ruins the very life it spares, and it is what inflates every earthquake and thunderbolt into a catastrophe.
Fear of death (n.) makes every hour before the last one uneasy.
Fear of death (n.) makes men so mad that they force themselves to die.
Fear of death (n.) is not fear of death but of the thought of death; death itself is always the same distance away.
Fear of death (n.) is magnificently forgotten by the glutton bent over a dish of choice mushrooms.
Fear of death (n.) is mostly fear of a rumour — and what is more foolish than being afraid of people’s words?
Fear of death (n.) is born with every animal: the hen runs from the unfamiliar hawk but not the peacock, and chicks fear the cat and not the dog.
Fear of death (n.) is folly at its purest when it makes men die through fear of dying.
Fear of death (n.) in a man who barely lives deserves Caesar’s answer to the old prisoner begging to die: “What! are you alive now?”
Fear of death (n.) is not a fear of disease but a fear of nature: you will die not because you are ill, but because you are alive.
The Fear of death (n.) is like the fear of gossip: death too is in bad odour, though none of those who malign it has made trial of it.