#ife

So much for the recreational side of night life in the upper-bracket-income hotels of Manhattan. And in its root-origins the very word itself is implicit with implication: re-create. Analyze it and you'll see it also means to reproduce. But clever, ingenious Man has managed to sidetrack it into making life more livable. ("New York Blues") ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#life

The supernatural world was like an onion. You peel back the layers, only to find more layers, on and on, hopelessly trying to reach the mysterious core. Then you start crying. ↗

— Carrie Vaughne

#humor #life #supernatural #truth #life

My original fear that my daughter was going to die before BettyJane and myself has now been replaced with the fear that she is going to outlive us. ↗

— John Passaro

#caregiving #fear #parents-responsibility #life

Some of us enjoy with today, some with future and some other with past. ↗

— Shayne Azad

#future #life #past #life

i hear people ask, "what is life?" and i just say it's a word! ↗

— Eshna Benegal

#life

My life is an open book; at least this photo album". ~R. Alan Woods [2013] ↗

— R. Alan Woods

#life-and-living #r-alan-woods #transparency #life

Be in love with yr life ↗

— Jack Kerouac

#love #life

They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn... ↗

— Jack Kerouac

#life

He felt something trickle down his face and he wiped it away irritably. When he looked at the back of his hand, he found trails of red. He had never cried in his life; in fact, he could not cry with no tear ducts. But now, at last, he was. He was crying tears of blood. For her. ↗

— Phillip W. Simpson

#life

April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ↗

— T.S. Eliot

#life