The earth is suffocating . . . Swear to make them cut me open, so that I won't be buried alive.
Dying of tuberculosis.
~~ Frederic Chopin, composer, d. October 16, 1849
Oh, I am not going to die, am I? He will not separate us, we have been so happy.
Spoken to her husband of 9 months, Rev. Arthur Nicholls.
~~ Charlotte Bronte, writer, d. March 31, 1855
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