#mat

What we call 'time' isn't chronological but spatial; what we call 'death' is merely a transition between different kinds of matter. ↗

— Stéphane Audeguy

#death #matter #space #time #death

To regret the exchange of earthly pleasures for the joys of Heaven, is as if the grovelling caterpillar should lament that it must one day quit the nibbled leaf to soar aloft and flutter through the air, roving at will from flower to flower, sipping sweet honey from their cups, or basking in their sunny petals. If these little creatures knew how great a change awaited them, no doubt they would regret it; but would not all such sorrow be misplaced? ↗

— Anne Brontë

#death #fear #heaven #transformation #change

There must be some other possibility than death or lifelong penance ... some meeting, some intersection of lines; and some cowardly, hopeful geometer in my brain tells me it is the angle at which two lines prop each other up, the leaning-together from the vertical which produces the false arch. For lack of a keystone, the false arch may be as much as one can expect in this life. Only the very lucky discover the keystone. ↗

— Wallace Stegner

#happiness #harmony #keystones #love #marriage

It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time. ↗

— Samuel Johnson

#dies #dying #how #importance #lasts

But let me ask you this: when Canaan cloaked you with his wings and you disappeared from the Terrestrial realm, did you just...stop existing?" "Of course not," I say, surprised by the question. "It's the same thing, Elle. Ali and your mother have been cloaked by death. You can't see them, but they're not gone. Not really. Our spirits will outlive our physical bodies, so it's our spirits we have to take care of." - page 285 ↗

— Shannon Dittemore

#jake-shield #death

A work is never completed except by some accident such as weariness, satisfaction, the need to deliver, or death: for, in relation to who or what is making it, it can only be one stage in a series of inner transformations. ↗

— Paul Valéry

#transformation #weariness #work #writing #death

Whose are all these ghosts?” she said, smiling at a flustered-looking Geraldine. “Oh,” said Geraldine, “I think they might be mine...? ↗

— Diane Hall

#ghosts #life-after-death #love #paranormal-romance #psychics

...she knew, with all her heart that running away from the country’s top relationship coach was as good as saying, 'there’s no hope for me, ever'! ↗

— Diane Hall

#ghosts #life-after-death #love #paranormal-romance #psychics

More than a hygenic method of disposing of the dead, cremation enabled lovers and comrades to be mingled together for eternity: The ashes of Domitian were mingled with those of Julia; of Achilles with those of Patroclus; All Urnes contained not single ashes; Without confused burnings they affectionately compounded their bones; passionately endeavouring to continue their living Unions. And when distance of death denied such conjunctions, unsatisfied affections concieved some satisfaction to be neighbours in the grave, to lye Urne by Urne, and touch but in their names. ↗

— Catharine Arnold

#death #urns #death

She added, "Washington is the city of the soft heads and the chicken hearts. ↗

— Donald Hamilton

#death