#th

There are two kinds of people. One kind, you can just tell by looking at them at what point they congealed into their final selves. It might be a very nice self, but you know you can expect no more suprises from it. Whereas, the other kind keep moving, changing... They are fluid. They keep moving forward and making new trysts with life, and the motion of it keeps them young. In my opinion, they are the only people who are still alive. You must be constantly on your guard against congealing. ↗

— Gail Godwin

#congealing #creativity #development #evolving #fluid

They exit one by one, or sometimes two by two. You scatter pieces of them on the snow in the woods and then run away as fast as you can, and then you turn and run back towards them, once they're beyond your reach. ↗

— Chandler Burr

#death

Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror--of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision--he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: The horror! The horror! ↗

— Joseph Conrad

#morality #struggle #the-horror #change

Her back to me, she said, “I know what Paul thinks. Everyone thinks I didn’t love Porter, that I just married him for the money, but Porter and I --” She shrugged. As avowals of lasting love go, I’ve sat through more professional presentations. But I said, “No outsider can understand a relationship between two people.” Hell, sometimes even the people in the relationship couldn’t understand it. ↗

— Josh Lanyon

#death

Thou askest me to take things seriously? After what thou didst last night? When thou needest to kill a man and instead did what you did? You were supposed to kill one, not make one! When we have just seen the sky full of airplanes of a quantity to kill us back to our grandfathers and forward to all unborn grandsons including all cats, goats and bedbugs. Airplanes making a noise to curdle the milk in your mother's breasts as they pass over darkening the sky and roaring like lions and you ask me to take things seriously. I take them too seriously already. ↗

— Ernest Hemingway

#milk #spain #death

A piece of those who have past on before us, lives deep inside us all ↗

— Johanna Banda

#inspirational #to-the-living #death

A King and Queen cannot support a crown with eyes looking down. Their universe expands as far as you can see. ↗

— T.F. Hodge

#destiny #eyes #future #hope #king

And it would be a death of the worst kind; becoming the very thing that I hunted myself, or worse. It was far more terrifying than the end of life completely. I'd rather be gone from this world for all of eternity than become a slave to Hell. ↗

— L.J. Kentowski

#death

Porque la muerte puede ser cualquier cosa. Un girasol recién cortado o un revólver humeante. O el rostro de la primera mujer que amamos cuando aún éramos niños y no sabíamos el tamaño de la desdicha que alberga la vida. ↗

— Marianne Diaz Hernandez

#death #love #muerte #death

We are stripped of all that gave value and substance to our existence: power and love; in this naked final state, our last lover, our mate, death, comes. Bereft, without cover, we face the elements that will undo us. The winter breakers crash over and through us, flaunting their vigor and our nullity, as if the entire cosmos were now taking its ultimate revenge on the human creature who has lived too long: the dying sun mocks us from the west, for it will return tomorrow to die again, but we go down only once; the rising sun mocks us from the east, for we will not share in the rebirth of light and life; the noonday taunts us with its heat and vitality, for we are detritus; the north finally cloaks us in our last vestments: eternal night. That is how it ends. ↗

— Arnold Weinstein

#death #imagination #reading #death