“I find myself wondering about humanity. Their attitude to my sister’s gift is so strange. Why do they fear the sunless lands? It is as natural to die as it is to be born. But they fear her. Dread her. Feebly they attempt to placate her.
They do not love her.
Many thousands of years ago, I heard a song in a dream, a mortal song that celebrated her gift. I still remember it:
‘Death is before me today:
Like the recovery of a sick man,
Like going forth into a garden
Death is before me today:
Like the odor of myrrh,
Like sitting under a good sail
In a good wind…'”
I walk by her side, and the darkness lifts from my soul.
I walk with her, and I hear the gentle beating of mighty wings.”
—Neil Gaiman, Sandman: Vol. 1, Preludes and Nocturnes.