1 But to fail here, is not mere life or death.
2 This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.
3 He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evils.
4 Then shall we make our final coup, and hunt the wretch to his real death.
5 It would shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her.
6 Inured as I was to sick beds and death, this suspense grew, and grew upon me.
7 There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers, and death was made as little repulsive as might be.
8 Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors.
9 Well, in him the brain powers survived the physical death; though it would seem that memory was not all complete.
10 It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the working of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death as little rude as might be.
11 Until the other, who has fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must not die; for if he is still with the quick Un-Dead, your death would make you even as he is.
12 The shutters had been opened, but the blinds were already down, with that obedience to the etiquette of death which the British woman of the lower classes always rigidly observes.
13 I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death.
14 I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is.
15 Here was a poor girl putting aside the terrors which she naturally had of death to go watch alone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor clay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest.
16 They say that people who are near death die generally at the change to the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any one who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it.
17 Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate; so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own.
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