Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead. When Death claims the light >>
We are all dead men on leave. >>
Most people would rather die than think: many do. >>
When the body sinks into death, the essence of man is revealed. Man is >>
Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead. When Death claims the light of my brow No flowers of life will cheer me: instead You may give me my roses now!