If I ever form a clan, we’ll be the anti-cheerleaders and walk under the bleacher forming mild acts of mayhem.
Why, you are a man of heart!Sometimes, replied Phileas Fogg, quietly. When I have the time.
Surely even those immune from the world, for the time being, need the touch of one another, or all is lost.
Like a flower pressed flat and dried, we try to hold it still and say, this is exactly how it was the day I first saw it. But like the flower, the past cannot be trapped that way. It loses its fragrance and and its vitality, its fragility becomes brittleness and its colors fade. And when next you look on the flower, you know that it is not at all what you sought to capture, that that moment has fled forever.
The jealous are possessed by a mad devil and a dull spirit at the same time.
A man does not die of love or his liver or even of old age; he dies of being a man.
When a husband loses his wife, they call him a widower. When a wife loses her husband, they call her a widow. And when somebody’s parents die, they call them an orphan. But there is no name for a parent, a grieving mother, or a devastated father who have lost their child. Because the pain behind the loss is so immeasurable and unbearable, that it cannot be described in a single word. It just cannot be described.
You’ll forget it when you’re dead, and so will I. When I’m dead, I’m going to forget everything–and I advise you to do the same.
So long as human beings stay human, death and life are the same thing.
It’s funny how you can forget everything except people loving you. Maybe that’s why humans find it so hard getting over love affairs. It’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love.
In weariness, existence is like the reminder of a commitment to exist, with all the seriousness and harshness of an irrevocable contract. One has to do something, one has to aspire after and undertake […] In weariness we want to escape existence itself, and not only one of its landscapes in a longing for more beautiful skies. An evasion without an itinerary and without an end, it is not trying to come ashore somewhere.
Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.
I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love.
She wanted to do things without having to worry what others thought.
She simply lived for her freedom.
Every time I step onto the stage, it’s not only proving to the audience that I’m capable but to myself.
Give yourself a gift of five minutes of contemplation in awe of everything you see around you. Go outside and turn your attention to the many miracles around you. This five-minute-a-day regimen of appreciation and gratitude will help you to focus your life in awe.
My mission is to kill time, and time’s to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
The Cosmos is all that is or was or ever will be. Our feeblest contemplations of the Cosmos stir us — there is a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice, a faint sensation, as if a distant memory, of falling from a height. We know we are approaching the greatest of mysteries.
You should be home sleeping. What is the use of having a man in the house, if he cannot take care of you for a while?” “Mmm,” I said. “I give up. What’s the use of having a man in the house?
I love you. I love you. I send this message through my fingers and into his, up his arm and into his heart. Hear me. I love you. And I’m sorry to leave you.
Everything we do really is just a little marker on the long road to death. And sometimes that’s overwhelmingly depressing to me, and sometimes it makes me feel kinship and forgiveness. We’ve all got the same ending to the story. The way we make that story more elaborate, I got to respect.
I saw the world from the stars’ point of view, and it looked unbearably lonely.
We all know how loving ends. But I want to fall in love with the world anyway, to let it crack me open. I want to feel what there is to feel while I am here.
Man and animals are in reality vehicles and conduits of food, tombs of animals, hostels of Death, coverings that consume, deriving life by the death of others.
There would be no chance to get to know death at all …if it happened only once.
Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Heres Tom with the Weather.
I have never dated. I have no experience. It’s terrible, and I’m scared to death of it, too, at the same time.
O tempo, como todos sabemos, passa. Se ele volta exatamente da mesma maneira, é questionável.
Abandon the urge to simplify everything, to look for formulas and easy answers, and to begin to think multidimensionally, to glory in the mystery and paradoxes of life, not to be dismayed by the multitude of causes and consequences that are inherent in each experience — to appreciate the fact that life is complex.
Dimanchophobia:Fear of Sundays, not in a religious sense but rather, a condition that reflects fear of unstructured time. Also known as acalendrical anxiety. Not to be confused with didominicaphobia, or kyriakephobia, fear of the Lord’s Day.Dimanchophobia is a mental condition created by modernism and industrialism. Dimanchophobes particularly dislike the period between Christmas and New Year’s, when days of the week lose their significance and time blurs into a perpetual Sunday. Another way of expressing dimanchophobia might be life in a world without calendars. A popular expression of this condition can be found in the pop song Every Day is Like Sunday, by Morrissey, in which he describes walking on a beach after a nuclear way, when every day of the week now feels like Sunday.
Tucker: Why would you tell me now if it’s against the rules?
Clara: Because I love you.
Why do you have such faith in me, Aurelia?”
“I’ve told you a million times that I love you, you make me feel safe and cherished, and you care deeply for our people. Why wouldn’t I have faith in you?
I worry there is something broken in our generation,
there are too many sad eyes on happy faces.
The most exquisite paradox… as soon as you give it all up, you can have it all. As long as you want power, you can’t have it. The minute you don’t want power, you’ll have more than you ever dreamed possible.
If you have seen everything in life, you want to say to people, Cut the drama and come to the point.But for people, drama is the point. A point is useless to them if it doesn’t provide drama.
I have outlasted all desire,My dreams and I have grown apart;My grief alone is left entire,The gleamings of an empty heart.The storms of ruthless dispensationHave struck my flowery garland numb,I live in lonely desolationAnd wonder when my end will come.Thus on a naked tree-limb, blastedBy tardy winter’s whistling chill,A single leaf which has outlastedIts season will be trembling still.
O my love, my wife!Death, that hath suck’d the honey of thy breathHath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
Why, I have never anything to do. I am always free, and I always will be free if you wantme.
The offender must be able to give something back. But criminals are most often poor people. They have nothing to give. The answers to this are many. It is correct that our prisons are by and large filled with poor people. We let the poor pay with the only commodity that is close to being equally distributed in society: time.
There is a child – a baby – who long since kicked off her blankets. Her skin is ashen and her mouth open in a perpetual yet silent scream. She isn’t old enough to roll over, to sit up, to climb. So she lies there kicking her fat legs against the footboard of the crib, eternally calling for her mother. For food. For flesh.
First mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers. Than mountains are no longer mountains and rivers are no longer rivers. Finally mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers.
And what does it mean — dying? Perhaps man has a hundred senses, and only the five we know are lost at death, while the other ninety-five remain alive.
The knowledge of death seemed present in both sisters—it was something about the way they carried themselves, something that had broken too soon and had not mended, marking them in spite of their lightheartedness.
It could happen to anyone when you get hired by a different president. There’s a difference in philosophies. It happens. It’s a change in CEOs. They have their own people, their own philosophies, and it’s different than what Bob stands for.
The day she was born,her grandfather made her a ring of silver and a polished stone, because he loved her already.
You know, Republicans should have a consistent philosophy. And if your philosophy is about limited government and not intruding in people’s lives, you shouldn’t just inconveniently take a social issue like gay marriage and say, ‘Well, unless we think – actually we should be intruding your life.’
Why should I fear death?If I am, then death is not.If Death is, then I am not.Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?Long time men lay oppressed with slavish fear.Religious tyranny did domineer.At length the mighty one of GreeceBegan to assent the liberty of man.
From the void, a spark ignites,A celestial breath, a pulse of wonder,We emerge—fragile, ephemeral—Inhaling galaxies, exhaling dreams,Life molds us like clay,Alchemy of joy and sorrow,Each tear a drop of cosmic ink,Writing stories on our souls.
…Our friend Nunheim was filled full of .32s just about an hour after he copped the sneak on us – deader’n hell. The pills look like they come from the same gun that cut down the Wolf dame. The experts are matching ’em up now. I guess he wishes he’d stayed and talked to us.
Life’s only choosing when to die. Life’s a big postponement because the choice is so difficult. It’s a tremendous relief not to have to choose.
Time had some score of small voices in that shop, some stately and slow as was becoming to their great gar, others garrulous and hurried. All these told out the seconds in an intricate chorus of tickings.
Whether we like it or not, the one justification for the existence of all religions is death, they need death as much as we need bread to eat.
Birth and death: there was the same consciousness of heightened existence and of her own elevated importance
I’ve gotta get out of the basement. I’ve gotta see the world. I’ve gotta make a difference