#eat

Was it not worth the loss of a little immortality to have that strange mix of innocence and strength close to him? ↗

— Nalini Singh

#immortality #life #love #death

La muerte parece ahora más pequeña, como si la osamenta le hubiese encogido, o quizá siempre fue así y son nuestros ojos, de acuerdo con nuestros miedos, los que hacen de ella una gigante. ↗

— José Saramago

#death

The walls were coming down around me, but still, I couldn't imagine telling the truth. Not now. It was too late. How can I tell Mom and Dad what we'd done? It would ruin everything. It would ruin their image of me; it would ruin every thought they'd ever had about who I was. It would be another death.Another loss. Another miscarriage. ↗

— Dana Reinhardt

#death #lie #truth #death

Every living thing requires love to survive for without it, we die. ↗

— Sanjo Jendayi

#deserie-johnson #die #live #love #sanjo-jendayi

Essay on Adam" There are five possibilities. One: Adam fell. Two: he was pushed. Three: he jumped. Four: he only looked over the edge, and one look silenced him. Five: nothing worth mentioning happened to Adam. The first, that he fell, is too simple. The fourth, fear, we have tried and found useless. The fifth, nothing happened, is dull. The choice is between: he jumped or was pushed. And the difference between these is only an issue of whether the demons work from the inside out or from the outside in: the one theological question. ↗

— Robert Bringhurst

#demons #murder #suicide #death

But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? ↗

— William Shakespeare

#death

I borrow moonlight for this journey of a million miles. ↗

— Ihara Saikaku

#death

Long, discursive, dry, and inane are the prayers in many pulpits. Without unction or heart, they fall like a killing frost on all the graces of worship. Death-dealing prayers they are. Every vestige of devotion has perished under their breath. The deader they are the longer they grow. ↗

— E.M. Bounds

#pride #death

Shall a man grave his sorrows upon a stone when he hath but need to write them on the water? Nay, oh /She/, I will live my day, and grow old with my generation, and die my appointed death, and be forgotten. ↗

— H. Rider Haggard

#immortality #mortality #death

Die. Do you think I will? I suppose I must...I exist now, and everything that exists must end, one day. I wonder how I will die, and what it will be like. It will be most interesting, don't you think? [...] Yes. Yes, I think it will," said the wolf. "I look forward to it. On the whole, I think it is a very strange and terrifying thing, to exist. I really don't understand how you do it. Tell me - how do you deal with the fear? "The fear?" asked George. "Yes. That fear that comes from the feeling that there is you, and then there is...everything else. That you are trapped inside of yourself, a tiny dot insignificant in the face of every everything that could ever be. How do you manage that?" George considered how to answer. "I...guess we just never think about it." "Never think about it!" cried the wolf. "How can you not think about it when it confronts you at every moment? You are lost amid a wide, dark sea, with no shores in sight, and you all so rarely panic! Some days I can barely function, so how on earth can you never think about it?" "Well, I...suppose we distract ourselves," said George. "But with what?". "I don't know. With all kinds of things. ↗

— Robert Jackson Bennett

#dying #existence #death