You don't know how to live until you learn how to die.

You don't get to choose how you're going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you're going to live. Now.

When you die, you die. You don't think which is a better way to die.

I am not even alive enough to know how to kill myself.

Now I see that if one doesn’t know how to die, one can hardly know how to live — because death is a part of life.

You mean that because I have no name I cannot die and that you cannot be held answerable for death even if you kill me?

You have no lease of your lives, and death is not bound to give you warning before it gives you that deadly blow that will send you to everlasting misery or everlasting felicity.

You don’t know how to handle anything today, because you have to go to jail to get some press or fall down drunk.

No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for.

For, truly, the man who does not know when to die, does not know how to live.

Those who do not know how to live must make a merit of dying.

You can force the people to obey; you cannot force them to understand.

As long as you do not know how to die and come to life again, you are but a sorry traveler on this dark earth.

I had no idea how to live, but I didn’t want to die.