死
La vie est une aube. La mort est un autre aurore.
The only real death is the death of the spirit.
I love flowers so much that I could kiss them, but I know if I did, they would wither and die.
One should forgive one's enemies, but not before they are hanged.
Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.
Death in itself is nothing; but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
To die for one's country is such a worthy fate that all compete for so beautiful a death.
La colère est un breuvage empoisonné que l'on boit en espérant que l'autre en mourra.
L'amour est un tyran que nuls ne servent sans mourir.
The only way to defeat death is through stories.
Literature is a false representation of life that nevertheless helps us to understand life better, to orient ourselves in the labyrinth where we are born, pass, and die.
The past is not dead; it is not even past.
Writing is learning to die, learning to give everything away.
The world is a stage, but the audience is dead.
The past is not dead, it is not even past.
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way.