(5) 1 not die? Lying here on my bed, or standing amidst my kin, I must suffer the agonies of dissolution alone. Whence shall I find a kinsman, whence a friend, when the Death-god's messengers seize me? Righteousness alone can save me then, and for that I have not sought. Clinging to brief life, I have been blind to this terror, heedless; 0 my Masters, grievous guilt have I gathered. He who is taken to be maimed of his limbs at once withers away; thirst racks him, his sight is darkened, the world is changed to his sight. How then will it be with me when I am in the charge of the Death-god's hideous messengers, consumed by a fever of mighty terror, covered with filth, looking with timid glances to the four quarters of heaven for aid? Who will be the friend to save me from that awful terror? I shall see in the heavens no help, and sink back into madness; then what shall I do in that place of horror? Now, now I come for refuge to the mighty Lords of the world, the Conquerors eager for the world's protection, who allay all fear; to the Law learned by them I come with all my heart for refuge, and to the Congregation of the Sons of Enlightenment.... Whatsoever guilt I have gathered in my foolishness and delusion, alike the wrong of nature and the wrong of commandment, I confess it all as I stand before the Masters with clasped hands, affrighted with grief, and making obeisance again and again. May my Lords take my transgression as it is; never more, O Masters, will I do this unholy work.

(3) 0 Masters, I confess all. How may I escape from it? Speedily save me, lest death come too soon upon me ere my sin have faded away. Death considers not what works be done or not done, and strikes us through our ease, a sudden thunder-bolt, unsure alike for the healthy and the sick.

(48) Death subdues a man who is gathering flowers, and whose mind is distracted, before he is satiated in his pleasures.

(30) And there is set no limit, no, not one, For mortals of their course to make an end, Except when Death's remorseless final end Comes, sent from Zeus,"- Diphilus writes: "There is no life which has not its own ills, Pains, cares, thefts, and anxieties, disease; And Death, as a physician, coming, gives Rest to their victims in his quiet sleep."