We don't fear death. Seneca, Epistles 4.30.15-18

Seneca concludes his epistle on death, advising Lucilius that we do not really fear death, as that would rationally entail living our lives in a state of unremitting terror, since there is no moment when we certainly cannot die.

Non dubitare autem se quin senilis anima in primis labris esset, nec magna vi distraheretur a corpore. Ignis qui valentem materiam occupavit aqua et interdum ruina exstinguendus est: ille qui alimentis deficitur sua sponte subsidit. Libenter haec, mi Lucili, audio non tamquam nova, sed tamquam in rem praesentem perductus. Quid ergo? non multos spectavi abrumpentes vitam? Ego vero vidi, sed plus momenti apud me habent qui ad mortem veniunt sine odio vitae et admittunt illam, non attrahunt. Illud quidem aiebat tormentum nostra nos sentire opera, quod tunc trepidamus cum prope a nobis esse credimus mortem: a quo enim non prope est, parata omnibus locis omnibusque momentis? Sed consideremus inquit tunc cum aliqua causa moriendi videtur accedere, quanto aliae propiores sint quae non timentur. Hostis alicui mortem minabatur, hanc cruditas occupavit. Si distinguere voluerimus causas metus nostri, inveniemus alias esse, alias videri. Non mortem timemus sed cogitationem mortis; ab ipsa enim semper tantundem absumus. Ita si timenda mors est, semper timenda est: quod enim morti tempus exemptum est?

Sed vereri debeo ne tam longas epistulas peius quam mortem oderis. Itaque finem faciam: tu tamen mortem ut numquam timeas semper cogita. Vale.

Bassus had no doubt but that his ancient soul was on the brink of escape, that drawing it from his body would not require much effort. “The fire that has taken hold of something substantial must be extinguished with water and the occasional crushing stamp; but flames lacking fuel go out of their own accord.” His words. I still love to hear them, Lucilius, not because they offer me anything new, but because they address the condition to which life has brought me. But what of this? Haven't I seen many people break free from this life? Indeed I have, but those who leave me with the greatest impression come to death without any hatred of life: they welcome death in, rather than drag her. Bassus used to say that we feel a special sense of dread when we believe death is near: but when isn't she close by? Doesn't she stand armed and ready in every place, at every moment? “We should notice that every time one cause of death appears to draw near, there are others closer to us that go unmarked, unfeared,” he said. A man once found himself threatened with death by the approach of a mortal enemy; indigestion killed him. If we are patient enough to mark and separate every lethal thing that causes us terror, we will see that seeming is not the same as being. What we fear is not really death, but our imagination of death, which puts us far distant from the real thing, always. For if death really must be feared, then we have to remain afraid always: what moment of our lives is outside her grasp?

At this point, however, I must begin to fear lest your hatred for long epistles outstrip your loathing for death, so let me make an end. Think about your death all the time, so that you may never fear it. Farewell.