My end draws nigh; 't is time that I were gone. Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight - Alfred Tennyson

A kind of waking trance I have frequently had, quite from boyhood, when
I have been all alone. This has generally come upon me thro’ repeating my own name two or three times to myself silently, till all at once, as it were
out of the intensity of the consciousness of individuality, the individuality
itself seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being, and this not a
confused state, but the clearest of the clearest, the weirdest of the weirdest,
utterly beyound words, where death was an almost laughable impossibility,
the loss of personality (if so it were) seeming no extinction but the only
true life.

Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day: Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away, To sleep! to sleep! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.

And Dagonet answered, 'Ay, and when the land
Was freed, and the Queen false, ye set yourself
To babble about him, all to show your wit