If I had my life over again, I would form the habit of nightly composing myself to thoughts of death. I would practice the remembrance of death.There is no other practice which so intensifies life. Death, when it approaches, ought not to take one by surprise. It should be part of the full expectancy of life. Without an ever-present sense of death, life is insipid. You might as well live on the whites of eggs. You might as well drink Kool-Aid