My double drags his coffin, humble slave,
I, at least, am real, though changed to flesh.
Far-off, I build me a church no hand can shape

("Winter Sonnets: III")

It is my trade," he said. "I work for the bean family, and every day there are deaths among the beans, mostly from thirst. They shrivel and die, they go blind in their one black eye, and I put them in one of these tiny coffins. Beans, you know, are beautifully shaped, like a new church, like modern architecture, like a planned city

The only way you can become a legend is in your coffin

A coffin... I'm in a coffin.
The stories told to frighten children and old men, of warriors injured in battle and believed dead by their comrades, only to wake up buried six feet beneath the ground, assailed me and i started to breathe too quickly, using too much air. Already i felt as if i was suffocating, trapped underground. Had they thought i'd lost too much blood? Was my heartbeat too soft or slow? Could Kest and Brasti truly have been foolish enough to think that-?
Brasti
I bellowed, and the sound of my voice echoed over the surface of the wood around me, "I'm going to fucking kill you this time you heartless son of a bitch!"
A distant guffaw was followed by the sound of footsteps running towards me and brasti calling, "Hang on, hang on, I'm coming..."
Blinding candlelight forced me to close my eyes as my prison lifted off me, and when i opened them again i saw that i hadn't actually been inside the coffin at all- Brasti had just removed the lid from one and flipped the rest over top of me.

Put your child in my child's coffin and tell me if two years sounds like enough.

the final nail in any would-be star's coffin.