I always had understood that dying of love was mere poetic license.
There's no greater misfortune than dying alone.
He repeated until his dying day that there was no one with more common sense, no stone cutter more obstinate, no manager more lucid or dangerous, than a poet.
For you was I born, for you do I have life, for you will I die, for you am I now dying.
Tell him yes. Even if you are dying of fear, even if you are sorry later, because whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life if you say no.
The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.