But I question the effectiveness of the tokens of comfort a culture, or any culture, has to offer. I don't question the validity or invalidity of people's beliefs, only their effectiveness. I find that some ignore the thought of it until its reaping those around them or on their own heels, chasing. Others have superstitions that prevent the discussion, or mere thought of it, lest they or someone they care for succumb to its grim harvest. Some accept a pacifying doctrine so as not to worry about death while living.
Pedagogues are just as vulnerable to pathos as playwrights, painters and poets.
They try to assassinate their fears with the weapons of rationale, but serve only to mask the darkness with positivist ideology. Poets and the like are accustomed to expressing themselves while living, and will consequently reveal their opinions in their art, or resort to personifying or trivializing death in an unavailing attempt to control or conquer their predator. It takes a rare or battered individual to cease the influence of emotion. God knows I try, but fail as miserably as the Stoics who wailed when Socrates had died. The door swings shut as I return from my late night stroll.