#death

To be of the Earth is to know the restlessness of being a seed the darkness of being planted the struggle toward the light the pain of growth into the light the joy of bursting and bearing fruit the love of being food for someone the scattering of your seeds the decay of the seasons the mystery of death and the miracle of birth. ↗

— John Soos

#change #darkness #death #earth #joy

I did it," I gasp, still reeling from the thrill and the fear. "I really-" Quince's mouth is on mine in an instant. His arms around my waist, mine around his neck. It's the fear, i know it's the fear. And the bond. And the adrenaline. That whole i-was-this-close-to-death-and-really-really-really-glad-to-be-alive emotional response. Anxiety and relief and joy swirl between us until i can't tell which are his and which are mine. I can't not be kissing him right now. The urgency in his kiss tells me he feels the same. ↗

— Tera Lynn Childs

#kiss #love #death

Not forever does the bulbul sing In balmy shades of bowers, Not forever lasts the spring Nor ever blossom the flowers. Not forever reigneth joy, Sets the sun on days of bliss, Friendships not forever last, They know not life, who know not this. ↗

— Khushwant Singh

#letting-go #life #life-changing #life-lessons #moving-on

A Short Testament Whatever harm I may have done In all my life in all your wide creation If I cannot repair it I beg you to repair it, And then there are all the wounded The poor the deaf the lonely and the old Whom I have roughly dismissed As if I were not one of them. Where I have wronged them by it And cannot make amends I ask you To comfort them to overflowing, And where there are lives I may have withered around me, Or lives of strangers far or near That I've destroyed in blind complicity, And if I cannot find them Or have no way to serve them, Remember them. I beg you to remember them When winter is over And all your unimaginable promises Burst into song on death's bare branches. ↗

— Anne Porter

#god #life #poetry #death

The reason they invented coffins, to lock the dead in, preserve them, they put makeup on them; they didn't want them spreading or changing into anything else. The stone with the name and date was on them to weight them down. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#change

Death is the night sky, the background against which the fleeting fireworks of life are displayed, an empty stage upon which the drama of life is played. ↗

— James Rozoff

#life #death

I thought of love as a game. It is not a game. It is more serious than death. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#death

I sometimes wonder whether our churches--living as we do in American death-denying culture, relentlessly smiling through our praise choruses--are inadvertently helping people live not as much in hope as in denial. ↗

— Mark Galli

#church #denial #praise-and-worship #death

We love because we can lose. If there was no threat of separation, no death to shake us to our core, we probably wouldn't love much at all. ↗

— Donna Lynn Hope

#love #separation #death

I don’t even like cemeteries. Morgues, either, nor anatomy museums, undertakers’ parlors, funeral chapels, or any of those places where the world of the living sparks against the world of the dead, and a spot of burned out time fades, diffuse in an ocean of timelessness. ↗

— Elizaveta Mikhailichenko

#fiction-novel #death