There are none of you, good doctors, could cope with my family anyway.
Death is the only limit to the road you travel.
Thus did I bear Sir Lancelot de Lac to the Keep of Ganleon, whom I trusted like a brother. That is to say, not at all.
Sleep is perhaps the only among life's great pleasures which need not be of short duration.
I know, too, that death is the only god who comes when you call.
Life is full of doors that don't open when you knock, equally spaced amid those that open when you don't want them to.