The Oxford Book of DeathDennis Joseph Enright Oxford University Press, 1987 - 351 psl. "Reading for this anthology," writes D.J. Enright, "I was moved to the thought that on no theme have writers shown themselves more lively." A survivor of Belsen voiced the same sentiment when, reflecting on the concentration camps, he wrote, "When in death we are in the midst of life." By turns poignant, tragic, comic, and inspiring, this anthology of thoughts about death ranges from ancient times to the present day--including almost 900 selections by poets, novelists, philosophers, scientists, and common people. Arranged under headings such as "Love," "War," "Last Words," and "Children," these selections show the varied, sometimes surprising, reactions of the dying and the bereaved to the final human act. |
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... tells us often and gives us notice that she cannot for long allow us that scrap of matter she has lent . . . she has ... tell thee , when I pass away , It is to tenfold life , to love , to peace , and raptures holy . Unseen descending ...
... tells us often and gives us notice that she cannot for long allow us that scrap of matter she has lent . . . she has ... tell thee , when I pass away , It is to tenfold life , to love , to peace , and raptures holy . Unseen descending ...
208 psl.
... Tell us ! ye dead ! Will none of you in pity To those you left behind disclose the secret ? Oh ! that some courteous ghost would blab it out ! What ' tis you are , and we must shortly be . I've heard , that souls departed have sometimes ...
... Tell us ! ye dead ! Will none of you in pity To those you left behind disclose the secret ? Oh ! that some courteous ghost would blab it out ! What ' tis you are , and we must shortly be . I've heard , that souls departed have sometimes ...
230 psl.
... Tell the crows we are not afraid ; We have died in the moors and cannot be buried . Crows , how can our bodies escape you ? ' The waters flowed deep And the rushes in the pool were dark . The riders fought and were slain ; Their horses ...
... Tell the crows we are not afraid ; We have died in the moors and cannot be buried . Crows , how can our bodies escape you ? ' The waters flowed deep And the rushes in the pool were dark . The riders fought and were slain ; Their horses ...
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