We all die alone. We shall endure death as once we enjoyed birth. You can't share either experience.

Death hastens those who hasten death.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone, his own burden, his own way.

There's no greater misfortune than dying alone.

Death cannot be experienced either by the dead or the living.

Time will never come when the word [Last Next] would be yelled out announcing his own arrived death.

What is shameful cannot be shared. What is shameful, separates.

I don't intend to share fate,
Fate which is a universal loneliness.

Si l'on est différent, il est fatal qu'on soit seul.

Death ends a life, but not our relationship, our love, or our hope.

Death walks faster than the wind and never returns what he has taken.

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.

In a society in which it is a mortal offense to be different from your neighbors your only escape is never to let them find out.

You experience life alone, you can be as intimate with another as much as you like, but there has to be always a part of you and your existence that is incommunicable; you die alone, the experience is yours alone, you might have a dozen spectators who love you, but your isolation, from birth to death, is never fully penetrated. What if death is the same aloneness, though, for eternity? An incommunicable, cruel, and infinite loneliness. We don't know what death is. Maybe it's that.