" John Donne: Death be not proud, though some have callèd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those who thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure—then, from thee much more must flow; And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more. Death, thou shalt die. "

― N.T. Wright , Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church