There are a few dogmas and double standards and really regrettable exports from philosophy that have confounded the thinking of scientists on the subject of morality.
Who shall tell the lady’s griefWhen her Cat was past relief?Who shall number the hot tearsShed o’er her, beloved for years?Who shall say the dark dismayWhich her dying caused that day?
You say you’re sure? Sure that you’re in love? How can you know it? You think love is so simple?
Become an internationalist and learn to respect all life. Make war on machines. And in particular the sterile machines of corporate death and the robots that guard them.
Kiss a lover,
Dance a measure,
Find your name
And buried treasure.
Face your life,
It’s pain,
It’s pleasure,
Leave no path untaken.
Her last conscious thought was disgust at life; her senses had lied to her. The world was not made of energy and delight but of foulness, betrayal, and lassitude. Living was hateful, and death was no better, and from end to end of the universe this was the first and last and only truth.
All of us have the same thing coming – death. It’s waiting. But I don’t want to go. I want to live to be 102!
Parting is inevitably painful, even for a short time. It’s like an amputation, I feel a limb is being torn off, without which I shall be unable to function. And yet, once it is done… life rushes back into the void, richer, more vivid and fuller than before.
A weak soul does not have the endurance to resist the flesh for very long. It grows heavy, becomes flesh itself, and the contest ends. But among responsible men, men who keep their eyes riveted day and night upon the Supreme Duty, the conflict between flesh and spirit breaks out mercilessly and may last until death.
The dead can survive as part of the lives of those that still live.
Each person is an enigma. You’re a puzzle not only to yourself but also to everyone else, and the great mystery of our time is how we penetrate this puzzle.
You’re only who you think you are until you aren’t anymore. And it isn’t up to you. It’s up to time. Life is timing. The test of time. We all have to take it, and none of us pass. No matter how hard you study. Perfect attendance. All that homework. Extracurricular activities. You’re still getting an F, just like everyone else. Finite. Failed. Fucked.
Time, however, the cruel mistress of the living, had run out.
The difference we wanna make is number one to let these kids know that they’re not alone, that they’re actually not that messed up and that they can do whatever they want; they can express themselves however they want, without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. You know, really just to get people to get over their stuff so they can live.
The idea is, we are representative of a probable future that contains and expresses certain frequencies and certain vibrations, that are representative of a harmonious earth, interacting with different beings, and its uyr choice to decide, and guide yourself, shift yourself to that version of earth or that timeline by being more of uyr self.
If I think behind me, I might break. If I think forward, I lose now.Forever will be a day like thisStrung perfectly on the necklace of days.
If so few female geniuses are found in history, it is because society denies them any means of expression.
I prefer you to make mistakes in kindness than work miracles in unkindness.
She was like the sun,
She knew her place in the world –
She would shine again regardless
of all the storms and changeable weather
She wouldn’t adjust her purpose
for things that pass.
Love is forgiving, accepting, moving on, embracing, and all encompassing. And if you’re not doing that for yourself, you cannot do that with anyone else.
Then Thalia Grace became their leader and started recruiting even more young women to their cause, which grated on Nico – as if Bianca’s death could be forgotten. As if she could be replaced.
I drove my feet through a desertWhose mirage fluttered like a host.Voracious for glory, greedy for danger, I roamed the horizons of al-Kulab. Watching time level mountainsIn its search and its hunger for me.And I saw the sparrows swiftly approach, Bolder than the onrushing wolf.They spread in the tree of my youth. I heard the flock in my branchesAnd was caught on their beaks and claws!
Oh, of course, said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. I forgot we’ll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library.
The foolish rush to end their lives.Only the steadfast soul survives.
That is not dead which can eternal lie,And with strange aeons even death may die.
Christmas time! That man must be a misanthrope indeed, in whose breast something like a jovial feeling is not roused—in whose mind some pleasant associations are not awakened—by the recurrence of Christmas. There are people who will tell you that Christmas is not to them what it used to be; that each succeeding Christmas has found some cherished hope, or happy prospect, of the year before, dimmed or passed away; that the present only serves to remind them of reduced circumstances and straitened incomes—of the feasts they once bestowed on hollow friends, and of the cold looks that meet them now, in adversity and misfortune. Never heed such dismal reminiscences. There are few men who have lived long enough in the world who cannot call up such thoughts any day of the year. Then do not select the merriest of the three hundred and sixty-five for your doleful recollections, but draw your chair nearer the blazing fire—fill the glass and send round the song—and if your room be smaller than it was a dozen years ago, or if your glass be filled with reeking punch, instead of sparkling wine, put a good face on the matter, and empty it offhand, and fill another, and troll off the old ditty you used to sing, and thank God it’s no worse.
We theorize that if these disruptions continue to happen, eventually the separate realities will begin to compete with our primary reality for dominance, and there will end up being no safe reality to live in.
Soiled, forgotten coats of arms were carved above their massive doorways, and these unsettled Ted: such universal, defining symbols made meaningless by nothing more than time.
That’s what literature is. It’s the people who went before us, tapping out messages from the past, from beyond the grave, trying to tell us about life and death! Listen to them!
Free will? Either you follow the word of God, or you’ll be punished with eternal hellfire. That’s the same kind of choice an abuse boyfriend gives you: ‘Either you do exactly what I say, or I’ll beat the shit out of you.
Why are you limping like that?’ Nicholas demanded.’I’m swaggering,’ I informed him.’You look like you’re wearing a diaper.’Charming. And I had a crush on this guy.Wait. I had a crush on this guy?’Now what?’ he asked. ‘You’re making weird faces.”Nothing,’ I said quickly. ‘Never mind.
We’re so old that the winds of age echo along our ribs and pick at our eye sockets. We could be gone tomorrow. A chill, say, or a little slip on the cliff side. I feel as fragile as a dried flower. I rattle a little in the moving air, but I’m only coherent dust-a shape of what once was. My essence is going.
I’m not saying that love always takes you to heaven. Your life can become a nightmare. But that said, it is worth taking the risk.
It’s time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I’d much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure.
It was March. The days of March creeping gustily on like something that man couldn’t hinder and God wouldn’t hurry.
Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.
Logic in all its infinite potential, is the most dangerous of vices. For one can always find some form of logic to justify his action, and rest comfortably in the assurance, that what he did abides by reason. That is why, for us brittle beings, Intention is the only true weapon of peace.
People don’t like to think, if one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant.
If we don’t change the direction we are headed, we will end up where we are going.
Time passes: yesterday has gone for ever but tomorrow never comes. Let’s make the most of today.
Oh, brothers! I don’t care for brothers. My elder brother won’t die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.
I am not a statue that was carved and sculpted to be a perfect masterpiece. I am still being moulded, and forever it shall be so. I am ready to be remodelled in the hands of the world’s greatest sculptor, time.
Self-destruction would be a brief, almost autoerotic free-fall into a great velvet darkness.
OK, Josh said evenly, I’ve seen men made of mud, I guess I can accept spying rats. Do they talk? he wondered aloud.Don’t be ridiculous, Flamel snapped, They’re rats.Josh really didn’t think it was a ridiculous suggestion.
You could start a fire with the heat between you two.You’re mistaking bitter animosity for heartfelt affection.
There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them
Get correct views of life, and learn to see the world in its true light. It will enable you to live pleasantly, to do good, and, when summoned away, to leave without regret.
The stone that was rolled before Christ’s tomb might appropriately be called the philosopher’s stone because its removal gave not only the pharisees but, now for 1800 years, the philosophers so much to think about.
If I were rain,
That joins sky and earth that otherwise never touch,
Could I join two hearts as well?