The birds of the air die to sustain thee; the beasts of the field die to nourish thee; the fishes of the sea die to feed thee. Our stomachs are their common sepulchre. Good God! with how many deaths are our poor lives patched up! how full of death is the life of momentary man!
Francis QuarlesIt is no happiness to live long, nor unhappiness to die soon; happy is he that hath lived long enough to die well.
Francis Quarles