If I were a liberal Democrat, people would say I’m the super genius of all time. The super genius of all time. If you’re a conservative Republican, you’ve got to fight for your life. It’s really an amazing thing.
When Sherri asks questions about who would find me if I killed myself and what their reaction would be, I think that whoever knew me would be sad. But then everybody would get over it. I would fade away. I don’t think I’m that important to anyone. Nobody’s opinion about me killing myself would stop me from doing it.
I said “Somebody should do something about that.” Then I realized I am somebody.
Never stop chasing your big dreams because when you finally see them come alive, you will have a great sense of pride.
Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.
RequiescatTread lightly, she is nearUnder the snow,Speak gently, she can hearThe daisies grow.All her bright golden hairTarnished with rust,She that was young and fairFallen to dust.Lily-like, white as snow,She hardly knewShe was a woman, soSweetly she grew.Coffin-board, heavy stone,Lie on her breast,I vex my heart aloneShe is at rest.Peace, Peace, she cannot hearLyre or sonnet,All my life’s buried here,Heap earth upon it.
What I’m not sure about, is if our lives have been so different from the lives of the people we save. We all complete. Maybe none of us really understand what we’ve lived through, or feel we’ve had enough time.
Now that her spirit had left, I’d thought she would feel light. Then I realized it was the spirit that carries the weight of the body and not the other way around.
The danger of restorative nostalgia lies in its belief that the mutilated ‘wholeness’ of the body politic can be repaired. But the reflective nostalgic understands deep down that loss is irrecoverable: Time wounds all wholes. To exist in Time is to suffer through an endless exile, a successive severing from those precious few moments of feeling at home in the world. In pop terms, Morrissey is the supreme poet of reflective nostalgia.
My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.
I don’t think a single one of them had any clear idea of time, as we at the end of countless ages have. They still belonged to the beginnings of time—
But one wants the idea of Death, you know, as something large and unknowable, something that allows a person to stretch himself out. Especially one wants it if one is tired. Or perhaps what one wants is simply a release from sensation, from all consciousness for ever….
A culture that denies death is a barrier to achieving a good death. Overcoming our fears and wild misconceptions about death will be no small task, but we shouldn’t forget how quickly other cultural prejudices–racism, sexism, homophobia–have begun to topple in the recent past. It is high time death had its own moment of truth.
She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.
When Max imagined that even the surface of the sun was frozen still and that everything in the infinite universe he’d learned about in astronomy had take a time-out because his little brother found a key in the woods behind St. Monroe Elementary, his head started to spin.
The problem, of course, was that [he] saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was black and what was white. You can’t love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a little.
Ros was dead.He had loved heroin more than it loved him. I was shocked beyond imagining; he was the first of my friends to fall.
THE FOUR HEAVENLY FOUNTAINSLaugh, I tell youAnd you will turn backThe hands of time.Smile, I tell youAnd you will reflectThe face of the divine.Sing, I tell youAnd all the angels will sing with you!Cry, I tell youAnd the reflections found in your pool of tears -Will remind you of the lessons of today and yesterdayTo guide you through the fears of tomorrow.
This sweet virginal primitive land will metaphorically breathe a sigh of relief –like a whisper of wind–when we are all and finally gone and the place and its creations can return to their ancient procedures unobserved and undisturbed by the busy, anxious, brooding consciousness of man.
The summer kings are gods, and we are finally, in the end, just men.
Crap.
It’s all crap.
Living is crap.
Life has no meaning.
None. Nowhere to be found.
Crap.
Why doesn’t anybody realize this?
I forgive you, I said. I said what I had to. I would die by pieces to save myself from real death.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
DEATH: Mostly they aren’t too keen to see me. They fear the sunless lands. But they enter your realm each night without fear.MORPHEUS: And I am far more terrible than you, sister.
Maggots gnaw on timeGlistening ghostly in dark crevicesAs I wait, resigned
Music is … A higher revelation than all Wisdom & Philosophy
Did he think I was still hung up on Vince? Was that why he was giving me time? Time was the last thing I wanted right now. Time sucked. Time could drive off a cliff.
You can pray and fight at the same time, Corporal. Especially if you learn how before things get rough. It’s important to have a philosophy of life . . . and of death.
We were like deaf people trying to dance to a beat we couldn’t hear, long after the music actually stopped.
It was all very strange, Mr. Gray thought, as he wiped the coffee canister clean with a sponge. Very, very mysterious. You were born; you lived a whole life; and at the end, you wound up in a coffee canister.Ah, well, he said out loud quietly. That’s just the way things are. Life’s a funny business. Death, he supposed, was the punch line.
I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.
Why should I be sad? Everyone has to die. If you have a body, it’s too late to cry. It’s only funerals I can’t stand.
As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
In philosophy, it is not the attainment of the goal that matters, it is the things that are met with by the way.
I won’t ever leave you, even though you’re always leaving me.
The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that.
The sum of his life was a unique melody, hauntingly beautiful and powerful.
Quote words that affirmall men and women are yourbrothers and sisters.
Today – not even that, for already it was tomorrow – would slide away like all the other days. Not a red letter day. Not the day of my desperate bidding. Not the day on which the love of my life was snaffled away from me. I opened the front door and looked out into the night. It was cold and uncomforting. I liked it like that. I hated the moment, yet I loved it because in it I still loved Lucy.
Sometimes you cry, Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.
Always go with your passions. Never ask yourself if it’s realistic or not.
Golf is deceptively simple and endlessly complicated; it satisfies the soul and frustrates the intellect. It is at the same time rewarding and maddening – and it is without a doubt the greatest game mankind has ever invented.
From time to timeI once wondered how one wanders from time to timeAnd think up the paradox lineSpeak of Epoch’s crimeOh I lied, it hasn’t happened yetBut bet you better believe it’s such a habit thatI just said that in a past mindset
Celebrity is death – celebrity – that’s the worst thing that can happen to an actor.
Santa Claus has nothing to do with it, the latke said. Christmas and Hanukah are completely different things.But different things can often blend together, said the pine tree. Let me tell you a funny story about pagan rituals.
It is better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride.
If my survival caused another to perish, then death would be sweeter and more beloved.
Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
Imagine about twenty years from now. What do you see in your vision? Will it be a tree full of abundance and fruit or barren and dying? The choice is yours. The choice is ours.
Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
Some things are private. Some things needed to be said, even when the person who needed to hear them couldn’t hear anything. Ever again.
There’s always a moment when you start to fall out of love, whether it’s with a person or an idea or a cause, even if it’s one you only narrate to yourself years after the event: a tiny thing, a wrong word, a false note, which means that things can never be quite the same again.
Time is nothing but an illusion, but it also exists. It exists because we feel it as the duration. We feel sadness that runs a marathon and we live that marathon. We feel time of joy as liminal. Perhaps everything we feel as fine or great is short-lived because we are already looking ahead and seeing the marathon’s scratch line, its beginning point.
THE PRESOCRATIC PROBLEM[all snap flags]Parmenides named his gun The Hot Power of the Stars. His gun was one, uncreated, imperishable, timeless, changeless, perfect, spherical. Spherical was the problem.
Time simply floated open and started to expand. Time held the two of us in light, inside a space so vast it might have reached the heavens, and turned eternal.
Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid.
You know, all that really matters is that the people you love are happy and healthy. Everything else is just sprinkles on the sundae.
A ‘civilization’ that makes such a ridiculous fuss about alleged ‘war crimes’ – acts of violence against the actual or potential enemies of one’s cause – and tolerates slaughterhouses and vivisection laboratories, and circuses and the fur industry (infliction of pain upon creatures that can never be for or against any cause), does not deserve to live.