I just finished reading Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin, and was struck by the last line of the book:
She was sixty-three in 1882 when her oft-stated longing for death was fulfilled at last.
It is an unlikely last line, given that Mary Lincoln plays a side role in the book—and yet, it is perfectly apt, and wraps up the book with just the right tone. We get a sense of Mary’s fatigue, and her relief, emotions we can perfectly empathize with at the end of a 754-page book. I loved it, by the way.