He taught them how to live and how to die.

He who would teach men to die would teach them to live.

Teach him how to live,
And, oh still harder lesson! how to die.

In teaching me the way to live
It taught me how to die.

He who should teach men to die would at the same time teach them to live.

There patient show'd us the wise course to steer,
A candid censor, and a friend severe;
There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Since Pharaoh’s bits were pushed into the jaws of kings, these dyings — patient or impatient, but dyings — have happened, by the hundreds of millions; they were all wasted. They taught us to kill others and to die ourselves, but never how to live. Who is “taught to live” by cruelty, suffering, stupidity, and that occupational disease of soldiers, death?

When you learn how to die, you learn how to live.

He lived, therefore he learned.

Teach him to live rather than to avoid death: life is not breath,
but action, the use of our senses, our mind, our faculties, every
part of ourselves which makes us conscious of our being. Life
consists less in length of days than in the keen sense of living.
A man maybe buried at a hundred and may never have lived at all.
He would have fared better had he died young.

Plato says the purpose of philosophy is to teach us how to die.

Throughout the whole of life one must continue to learn to live,” said Seneca two millennia ago, “and what will amaze you even more, throughout life one must learn to die.

Learn how to live and you'll know how to die; learn how to die, and you'll know how to live.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed.
Teach me to die…