I’m an atheist, I always thought, ‘This is it.’ If there is going to be a heaven, it should be on earth. I feel much happier than most people. I’m fairly stoic about death, but I’m not keen on dying if it’s going to be long and protracted. I don’t have dark nights of the soul, except occasionally. I’m such a little busy bee.
I tell young people – including my granddaughter – there is no shortcut in life. You have to take it one step at a time and work hard. And you have to give back.
Drake’s my little brother; I love him to death, and he’s family-oriented.
We are all at the center of our own narrative, but it’s a narrative that changes every time we retell it.
Love someone because their soul inspires you, not because you’re interested in the relief from loneliness and companionship they can provide. Anybody can do that. Not just anybody can show you to yourself.
Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!
The figures looked more or less human. And they were engaged in religion. You could tell by the knives (it’s not murder if you do it for a god).
Keep a clear eye toward life’s end. Do not forget your purpose and destiny as God’s creature. What you are in his sight is what you are and nothing more. Remember that when you leave this earth, you can take nothing that you have received…but only what you have given; a full heart enriched by honest service, love, sacrifice, and courage.
I do not see how a people that can find in its conscience any excuse whatever for slowly burning to death a human being, or for tolerating such an act, can be entrusted with the salvation of a race.
I think the very word stalking implies that you’re not supposed to like it. Otherwise, it would be called ‘fluffy harmless observation time’.
Death is part of who we are. It guidesus. It shapes us. It drives us to madness. Can you still be human if you have no mortal end
I was not encouraged to follow the career of a writer because my parents thought that I was going to starve to death. They thought nobody can make a living from being a writer in Brazil. They were not wrong.
We think you’ll find that every woman in her heart of hearts longs for three things: to be romanced, to play an irreplaceable role in a great adventure, and to unveil beauty. That’s what makes a woman come alive.
Squirrels never have to clock out to eat lunch. They also never pay for their food, so are humans really at the top of the power chart?
The most unlucky generation is the one which couldn’t produce a hero to look upto.
We must reject the idea that every time a law’s broken, society is guilty rather than the lawbreaker. It is time to restore the American precept that each individual is accountable for his actions.
If I have made an appointment with you, I owe you punctuality, I have no right to throw away your time, if I do my own.
Destiny, if I could sit across the porch from God, I’d thank Him for Lending me you…..
We see a hearse; we think sorrow. We see a grave; we think despair. We hear of a death; we think of a loss. Not so in heaven. When heaven sees a breathless body, it sees the vacated cocoon & the liberated butterfly.
Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.
I went to a restaurant that serves ‘breakfast at any time’. So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.
All Bette’s stories have happy endings. That’s because she knows where to stop. She’s realized the real problem with stories—if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.
Social media is changing the way we communicate and the way we are perceived, both positively and negatively. Every time you post a photo, or update your status, you are contributing to your own digital footprint and personal brand.
One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.
Life becomes a dilemma when you are living a purposeless and goalless life
A very old wisteria rose snaking over an arbour. Nearby were tiny roses on a wall, mere tufty buttons that smelled of one’s childhood in a horse-pace village. Thin bricks were set on edge around a bed of irises, bricks which had been stamped on by Tudor horses, when they had formed the floor of the old stables. Traces of them could be seen also in the path in the churchyard, like the backs of small old books packed in a bookshelf.
I know that it’s easier to look at death than it is to look at pain, because while death is irrevocable, and the grief will lessen in time, pain is too often merely relentless and irreversible.
My life isn’t theories and formulae. It’s part instinct, part common sense. Logic is as good a word as any, and I’ve absorbed what logic I have from everything and everyone… from my mother, from training as a ballet dancer, from Vogue magazine, from the laws of life and health and nature.
Our idea of the birth of the Universe through the Big Bang is only our limited idea about the Universe and not a real explanation of the Universe itself as it may be and not as we think it is. Therefore, we would have to define, in the first place, what a real Universe is. We have to determine whether we can always use our ideas about the Universe as a basis for understanding the Universe. But, if we are not sure we understand, or know with certainty, or at least to a high degree, what a real Universe is, in its totality, known and unknown to us, then we must think about it more hypothetically.
The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air…
There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fill you with so much quail shot that you can’t move, and the kind that just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.
How unhappy does one have to be before living seems worse than dying?
Time moves in one direction, memory another. We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intended to counter the natural flow of forgetting.
I put instant coffee in a microwave oven and almost went back in time.
How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?
Keep a record of your time. Learn to account for each day that passes by.
Stories you read when you’re the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you’ll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit.
Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
Have you ever felt the longing for someone you could admire? For something, not to look down at, but up to?
I’m terrified of the thought of time passing (or whatever is meant by that phrase) whether I ‘do’ anything or not. In a way I may believe, deep down, that doing nothing acts as a brake on ‘time’s – it doesn’t of course. It merely adds the torment of having done nothing, when the time comes when it really doesn’t matter if you’ve done anything or not.
The river is now. This moment. This breath between us. The space between your heartbeats. The moment before you blink. The instant a thought flashes through your mind. It is everything that is around us. Life. Energy. Flowing, endlessly flowing, carrying you from then…to now…to tomorrow. Listen: you can hear the music of it. Of the passage of time.
Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.
Susan’s gotta poker, you know, it said, as if anxious to be helpful. WELL, WELL. INDEED. MY GOODNESS ME.I fort-thought all of you knew that now. Larst-last week she picked up a bogey by its nose.Death tried to imagine this. He felt sure he’d heard the sentence wrong, but it didn’t sound a whole lot better however he rearranged the words.
I like to imagine that, on the day after my last, my library and I will crumble together, so that even when I am no more I’ll still be with my books.
The debate was wearing me out. Once you’ve posed that question, it won’t go away. I think many people kill themselves simply to stop the debate about whether they will or they won’t. Anything I thought or did was immediately drawn into the debate. Made a stupid remark—why not kill myself? Missed the bus—better put an end to it all. Even the good got in there. I liked that movie—maybe I shouldn’t kill myself.
When had time grown such rapid and vigorous wings? The day already felt as if it were slipping away and she had little hope of catching it.
The man who says that all events are necessitated has no ground for critizing the man who says that not all events are necessitated. For according to him this is itself a necessitated event.
No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.
The idea that all souls are mortal is the only notion surely terminating love and all its forms.
That’s the kind of death that frightens me. The shadow of death slowly, slowly eats away at the region of life, and before you know it everything’s dark and you can’t see, and the people around you think of you as more dead than alive.
How often the priest had heard the same confession–Man was so limited: he hadn’t even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization–it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.
To begin with, I turn back time. I reverse it to that quaint period, the thirties, when the huge middle class of America was matriculating in a school for the blind. Their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes, and so they were having their fingers pressed forcibly down on the fiery Braille alphabet of a dissolving economy.
We are so obsessed with doing that we have no time and no imagination left for being. As a result, men are valued not for what they are but for what they do or what they have – for their usefulness.
His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do – the best ones. The ones who rise up and say I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come. Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.
What use was time to those who’d soon achieve Digital Immortality?
We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth.
Sometimes we feel lonely,Like another brickAnother wallLike no one needs you at all.Life isn’t supposed to be like that,Just think for a while;You’re the brick the wall needs,You’re a masterpiece.Open your eyes,And you’ll seeAll the love around you;It was all the time beside you,You were too blind to realizeDon´t you?
Death is the end of the fear of death. […] To avoid it we must not stop fearing it and so life is fear. Death is time because time allows us to move toward death which we fear at all times when alive. We move around and that is fear. Movement through space requires time. Without death there is no movement through space and no life and no fear. To be aware of death is to be alive is to fear is to move around in space and time toward death.