#the

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

The horse had a fly-net over its head and ears. It looked down on the paving-stones with the empty disappointed expression of an old moral theologian. Whenever the guide spat between his shoes, the horse shook his head in disapproval. ↗

— Wolfgang Koeppen

#moral #spitting #theologian #death

Scientists do not join hands every Sunday and sing "Yes gravity is real! I know gravity is real! I will have faith! I believe in my heart that what goes up, up, up must come down, down, down. Amen!" If they did, we would think they were pretty insecure about the concept. ↗

— Dan Barker

#science #faith

Death has come to cut your throats and drink your blood! ↗

— Brom

#the-child-thief #death

At 19, you know everything; by the time you're 40, you haven't got a clue. ↗

— Hugh Bonneville

#clue #everything #got #haven #know

There's nothing greater in the world than when somebody on the team does something good, and everybody gathers around to pat him on the back. ↗

— Billy Martin

#back #does #everybody #gathers #good

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? (Just to give you an idea, Proust's reply was 'To be separated from Mama.') I think that the lowest depth of misery ought to be distinguished from the highest pitch of anguish. In the lower depths come enforced idleness, sexual boredom, and/or impotence. At the highest pitch, the death of a friend or even the fear of the death of a child. ↗

— Christopher Hitchens

#children #death #fear #friends #idleness

Acceptance of death when it arrives is one thing, but to allow it to upstage the joys of living is ingratitude. ↗

— Ronald Blythe

#death

The dead boy in his arms hung with his head back and those partly opened eyes beheld nothing at all out of that passing landscape of street or wall or paling sky or the figures of the children who stood blessing themselves in the gray light. This man and his burden passed on forever out of that nameless crossroads and the women stepped once more into the street and the children followed and all continued on to their appointed places which as some believe were chosen long ago even to the beginning of the world. ↗

— Cormac McCarthy

#death #death

Ah, gençliğimin mabedi o sevgili nerelerde! Kaybolacak idiyse onu ne diye tanıdım ben?.. Kendi kendime: Çılgınsın! diyorum, artık bulunması olanaksız bir şey arıyorsun! Ama ben ona, o sevgiliye bir zamanlar sarılmıştım. Kalbinin atışlarını duymuştum. Yüce yaradılışı önünde kendimi benliküstüne yükselmiş gibi görürüm. Çünkü onun yanında ne kadar olabileceksem o kadar sezgili olurdum. Hey Tanrım! O zaman ruhumun hiçbir yeteneği boşa çıkar mıydı? Yüreğimin tüm evreni kucaklamadaki şaşılacak gücü onun önünde bütünüyle kendini ortaya koymaz mıydı? Yüreğin derinliklerinden yükselen ürpermeler, iki ruhun yüz yüze şimşeklenmesi aramızda her günün, bir alışverişine benzemez miydi? Ah, onunla her sohbetimiz ve iğneli şakalarımız dahil, her sözümüz inci gibi inceltilmişti, ben bunu bilirim...Asla unutamayacağım, onun ruhunun duruluğunu, sağlamlığını, onun o göksel yumuşaklığını asla unutamayacağım... ↗

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

#genç-werther-in-acıları #goethe #love #pain #death