#death

You think because you face situations not of your making that you exercise no choice? That you are helpless? To the contrary, child. Your whole life has been full of choices. Hiding from a hard truth is a choice. Surrender - even to the inevitable - is a choice. Even in death there is a choice. You may have no control over the time or manner of your death, but you can choose how you face it. ↗

— C.L. Wilson

#death

A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies. ↗

— Gustave Flaubert

#dies #friend #something #who #you

Normally, to decide whether we are alive we do not look outside of ourselves to find out if we are nourishing and generating life. We look into ourselves to find out how strong and healthy and vital we are. But the notion of the seed that dies demands an extraordinary redirection of the sense of life. Now to know if anyone is alive, we do not look at them; look beyond them to the mode of their expenditures and the life that they nourish and preserve beyond themselves. ↗

— Arthur C. McGill

#life #death

She and I were bound together at the border between life and death. It was like that for us from the start ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#death

Dying is the day worth living for. ↗

— pirates of carrabien

#good-ones #humor #life #death

If love is something you cherish, it is hard to glean much joy from death, even in one's enemies. ↗

— Russell Brand

#love #death

There is no beyond, there is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present. ↗

— Iris Murdoch

#death #life #religion #death

The first and foremost reality is that suffering and death are not only enemies of life, but a means of reminding us of life's twin realities, love and hate. ↗

— Ravi Zacharias

#jesus #death

I have never lived a life so much larger than death. (93) ↗

— Stephen Levine

#life #living #death

On No Work of Words On no work of words now for three lean months in the bloody Belly of the rich year and the big purse of my body I bitterly take to task my poverty and craft: To take to give is all, return what is hungrily given Puffing the pounds of manna up through the dew to heaven, The lovely gift of the gab bangs back on a blind shaft. To lift to leave from the treasures of man is pleasing death That will rake at last all currencies of the marked breath And count the taken, forsaken mysteries in a bad dark. To surrender now is to pay the expensive ogre twice. Ancient woods of my blood, dash down to the nut of the seas If I take to burn or return this world which is each man's work. ↗

— Dylan Thomas

#poetry #reciprocity #writer-s-block #death