“Yeah.You got me through”
Source: My Love Lies Bleeding
“I would not be dying if it were not for her. I would have stayed home, as I have always stayed home, and I would have been safe, and I would have done the one thing I have always wanted to do, which is to grow up.”
Source: Paper Towns
“If Relativity Theory kills our deepest convictions, why not start by finding out why we believed in them for millennia?”
Source: Galloping with Light - Einstein, Relativity, and Folklore
“Mitch, I don't allow myself any more self-pity than that. A little each morning, a few tears, and that's all."
I thought about all the people I knew who spent many of their waking hours feeling sorry for themselves. How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. Just a few minutes, then on with the day. And if Morrie could do it, with such a horrible disease . . .”
Source: Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
“the word "dying" was not synonymous with "useless.”
Source: Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
“In a strange way, I envied the quality of Morrie's time even as I lamented its diminishing supply. Why did we bother with all the distractions we did? .. give up days and weeks of our lives, addicted to someone else's drama.”
Source: Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
“Achala, worrying and scheming about your next life, before you have even completed this one, is not a good practice." Rinpoche”
Source: Taking It With You: Everybody knows you can't take anything with you when you die... almost everybody.
“He nodded toward the window with the sunshine streaming in. "You see that? You can go out there, outside, anytime. You can run up and down the block and go crazy. I can't do that. I can't go out. I can't run. I can't be out there without fear of getting sick. But you know what? I appreciate that window more than you do.”
Source: Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
“London, December 1915. In the master bedroom (never was the estate agent's epithet more appropriate) of Flat 21, Carlyle Mansions, Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, the distinguished author is dying - slowly, but surely. In Flanders, less than two hundred miles away, other men are dying more quickly, more painfully, more pitifully - young men, mostly, with their lives still before them, blank pages that will never be filled. The author is seventy-two. He has had an interesting and varied life, written many books, travelled widely, enjoyed the arts, moved in society (one winter he dined out 107 times), and owns a charming old house in Rye as well as the lease of this spacious London flat with its fine view of the Thames. He has had deeply rewarding friendships with both men and women. If he has never experienced sexual intercourse, that was by his own choice, unlike the many young men in Flanders who died virgins either for lack of opportunity or because they hoped to marry and were keeping themselves chaste on principle.”
Source: Author, Author
“Life went on, despite all the dying.”
Source: The Hangman's Daughter