The more death, the more birth. People are entering, others are exiting. The cry of a baby, the mourning of others. When others cry, the other are laughing and making merry. The world is mingled with sadness, joy, happiness, anger, wealth, poverty, etc.

A premature death does not only rob one of the countless instances where one would have experienced pleasure, it also saves one from the innumerable instances where one would have experienced pain.

Most of us cling to life as if our existence were a result of our deed or choice.

Most human beings would have never been pained by the death of a human being if they had never seen a human being or pretending to be pained by that.

The death of a billionaire is worth more to the media than the lives of a billion poor people.

An expensive coffin does not decrease the deceased’s chances of going to hell.

The face of the dead man was concealed, of course, our customs not being those of the south, where corpses are carried to the grave in open coffins, that they might – one last time before slipping into the pit – be warmed by the light of the sun.

Sometimes failing is what's needed. I think it can put people in a good mood, to see someone fail. Let people entertain themselves. I think that's one of the reasons people are so lonely in this country. Because they always have to rush out and have someone else in the room entertain them. It's terrible, the loneliness here. People live in coffins...

We the living are to blame for the painfulness of being dead.

My heart will never forget what it’s like to fade in and out of time, to never know if one year or a thousand have passed by, to torture yourself with the idea of your soul trapped behind ice for all eternity.I know what torture there is behind ice.

Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.

A coffin... I'm in a coffin.The stories told to frighten children and old men, of warriors injured in battle and believed dead by their comrades, only to wake up buried six feet beneath the ground, assailed me and i started to breathe too quickly, using too much air. Already i felt as if i was suffocating, trapped underground. Had they thought i'd lost too much blood? Was my heartbeat too soft or slow? Could Kest and Brasti truly have been foolish enough to think that-?BrastiI bellowed, and the sound of my voice echoed over the surface of the wood around me, "I'm going to fucking kill you this time you heartless son of a bitch!"A distant guffaw was followed by the sound of footsteps running towards me and brasti calling, "Hang on, hang on, I'm coming..."Blinding candlelight forced me to close my eyes as my prison lifted off me, and when i opened them again i saw that i hadn't actually been inside the coffin at all- Brasti had just removed the lid from one and flipped the rest over top of me.

Never go down to the darkest room. Stay far away from the rotting coffin. If you want to live through the night, let the devil sleep.

He had built his own future brick by brick around himself but there were no doors or windows, at least that was the way it seemed at the time he had thought to himself, I am locked in, it was like one of those ghost stories where you wake up and you are sealed in a coffin.

She’d sworn she wouldn’t end up like her little brother, but loneliness didn’t arrive with flashing bulbs and a warning label. The descent was as simple and complex as a faked smile, white lies about being “okay,” and the nod and acceptance as her own peers didn’t delve deeper, shutting the coffin lid for her.

If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

Well, that was the end of me, the real end. Two pound ten every Tuesday and a room of the Gray's Inn Road. Saved, rescued and with my place to hide in - what more did I want? I crept in and hid. The lid of the coffin shut down with a bang. Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone. No more pawings, no more pryings - leave me alone.

The sky was growing dangerously light when I left Lestat and made my way to the secret place, below an abandoned building where I kept the iron coffin in which I lie.This is no unusual configuration among our kind-the sad old building, my title to it, or the cellar room cut off from the world above by iron doors no mortal could independently seek to lift.

It's all right if people think we are idiots.It's all right if we lie face down on the earth.It's all right if we open the coffin and climb in.

Heresy is the eternal dawn, the morning star, the glittering herald of the day. Heresy is the last and best thought. It is the perpetual New World, the unknown sea, toward which the brave all sail. It is the eternal horizon of progress.Heresy extends the hospitalities of the brain to a new thought.Heresy is a cradle; orthodoxy, a coffin.

It is my trade," he said. "I work for the bean family, and every day there are deaths among the beans, mostly from thirst. They shrivel and die, they go blind in their one black eye, and I put them in one of these tiny coffins. Beans, you know, are beautifully shaped, like a new church, like modern architecture, like a planned city

My double drags his coffin, humble slave,I, at least, am real, though changed to flesh.Far-off, I build me a church no hand can shape("Winter Sonnets: III")

Are you kidding? I'm supposed to put my books in this filthy tin coffin?

When you're reaching the end of the semester and you just wanna die. Coffin Making 101 is literally killing me.-Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz

Now get the fuck up off the ground so I can put you in it... like a coffin. Because you'll be fucking dead after I kill you, you fucking asshole.

Having parked up at the entrance to the football ground I’d like my coffin to be taken from the hearse and carried around the mile and a half perimeter of the pitch in a fitting lap of honour. Then, after the lap of honour, I would like the undertakers to lift me out of my coffin, dress me in the home strip and sit with me in the Evans Halshaw Home Stand for a match against any team in the Essex and Suffolk Border League Division One. (From Undertaker's Question Time, 2016)

Today, a couple with 'just married' tags collided head-on with a hearse carrying two coffins in the back, both of a married couple that had previouslydied in a car accident.

I think the best shaped box ever on earth is a coffin which can be handmade to escort the forever numb-hands.

Being certain one is alive isn't something to which one pays mind. If you could ask the question, you were fine. If you could not, hopefully you had a cozy coffin.

We do know that we are cheated from birth to the overcharge on our coffins.

Like the coffin was settling down for a long, long nap, for a forever nap.