I’m not afraid of Death, I’m outraged, and I refuse to endow it with awe by refusing to think about it; when it comes, decades from now or tomorrow, I will fight it with teeth and fingernails, and I will neither accept it nor acquiesce. I will swear war on it, contempt, and opposition until it floods my mouth and comes out my eyes. I will give Death no peace. I will force Death into either cowardice to kill me with an accident or a proxy, or desperation to stoop to disease. I will give it no dignity. I scorn its ancestry.