Death aims with fouler spite
At fairer marks.

Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just! Shining nowhere but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark!

Death can be more exciting than life.

As leaves cover the forest floor in a carpet of vibrant rusts, orange and gold, autumn proves that sometimes death too can be a beautiful thing.

To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious!

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.

Omit death's certain sharpness, life would lack
The salt that lends it savour.

"Death, it seems," Garp wrote, "does not like to wait until we are prepared for it. Death is indulgent and enjoys, when it can, a flair for the dramatic."

There is no better way to know death than to link it with some licentious image.

Death favours those that favour death.

A beautiful death is for people who lived like animals to die like angels — loved and wanted.

And what is death, if not a face at peace - its artistic perfection.

Make death proud to take us.

Death wears a big hat.