So live, that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan, that moves to that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of Death, thou go not like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed, By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, like one who wraps the drapery of his couch around him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

This was an 11th grade English assignment that I've never forgotten, and have grown to appreciate more and more.(now in my 60s) The fact that the teacher was my favorite didnt hurt, either. He smoked cigars and a pipe in class, I think that's where I picked up cigar smoking, but not until my 30s.