#s

I think anyone who opened their heart enough to love without restraint and subsequently were devastated by loss knows that in that moment you are forever changed; a apart of you is no longer whole. Some will never again love with that level of abandon where life is perceived as innocent and the threat of loss seems implausible. Love and loss, therefore, are linked. ↗

— Donna Lynn Hope

#lost-love #love-and-loss #change

There's no way of knowing that your last good day is Your Last Good Day. At the time, it is just another good day. ↗

— John Green

#john-green #life #the-fault-in-our-stars #death

You can never be really sure of how much you believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life or death to you. ↗

— C.S. Lewis

#christianity #death

They died together; they'll always be remembered together. It's decided, once and for all. He was hers. ↗

— Rebecca Serle

#death #love #shakespeare #death

Keep me rather in this cage, and feed me sparingly, if you dare. Anything that brings me closer to illness and the edge of death makes me more faithful. It is only when you make me suffer that I feel safe and secure. You should never have agreed to be a god for me if you were afraid to assume the duties of a god, and we know that they are not as tender as all that. You have already seen me cry. Now you must learn to relish my tears. ↗

— Pauline Réage

#cruelty #dark #faith #god #love

Death is the destination we all share, no one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be because death is very likely the single best invention of life. ↗

— Steve Jobs

#life #life-and-death #death

What if it's as simple as one moment? One tiny thing, like that kiss on the rocks? What if I'd kissed him a little longer? Would he be alive right now? Or what if I'd stayed with him Friday night, what if I'd been with him… wherever he was? ↗

— Kristina McBride

#grief #missing #what-if #death

In his autobiography Stravinsky relates that the first music he remembers was made by a peasant, working his hand in his armpit to produce a rhytmic farting. ↗

— Craig Raine

#music #stravinsky #music

Do you remember the sight we saw, my soul, that soft summer morning round a turning in the path, the disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones, its legs in the air like a woman in need burning its wedding poisons like a fountain with its rhythmic sobs, I could hear it clearly flowing with a long murmuring sound, but I touch my body in vain to find the wound. I am the vampire of my own heart, one of the great outcasts condemned to eternal laughter who can no longer smile. Am I dead? I must be dead. ↗

— Charles Baudelaire

#death #horror #murder #poetry #primal-scene

I'm going to see if Morris has a spare spine lying around you can borrow if you're scared to speak to that high-heeled, smug-ass bitch, Peabody. ↗

— J.D. Robb

#humour #peabody #death