For if he is still with the quick Undead, your death would make you even as he is.

No, you must live! You must struggle and strive to live, though death would seem a boon unspeakable.

You must fight Death himself, though he come to you in pain or in joy.

By the day, or the night, in safety or in peril! On your living soul I charge you that you do not die.

Nay, nor think of death, till this great evil be past." The poor dear grew white as death, and shook and shivered, as I have seen a quicksand shake and shiver at the incoming of the tide.