“Tell me, my soul, can this be death?”

— Alexander Pope

The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712)

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Alexander Pope 158

eighteenth century English poet 1688–1744

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“I. But he hears not. Now, my warrior guests,
I drink to the onward passage of his soul
Death. Had my hand turned coward or played me false,
This man that is my hand, and less than I
And less than he bloodguilty, this my death
Had been my husband's: now he has left it me.
[Drinks]
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No time is mine to tell you. Truth shall tell.
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“My work has been essentially a dialogue with death, asking him, “Why? Why?” So only death can silence me. Only death can close my lips.”

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“As the separation of the soul from the body is the death of the body, so the separation of God from the soul is the death of the soul. And this death of the soul is the true death.”

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“A sort of anteneurosis of what I will be when I will not longer be freezes my body and soul. A kind of remembrance of my future death makes me shudder from the inside.”

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Original: Uma espécie de anteneurose do que serei quando já não for gela-me o corpo e alma. Uma como que lembrança da minha morte futura arrepia-me dentro.

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Source: Night-Thoughts (1742–1745), Night II, Line 51.

“Tell me, my soul, can this be death?”

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Alexander Pope 158

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