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The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy

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Rachel Joyce
Rachel Joyce

Rachel Joyce is a British author born in 1962. Her works are known for their profound character development and unique narrative style, which have won her a wide readership. more

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“Most people do not mind dying, as long as that does not happen today.”

LifeHumorTodayDeathLostGoneDyingHumourBirthLateImmortalityFallenSatireImmortalMortalityDeadDiePassed AwayDepartedLifelessMortalDeceasedKilledAsleepExpiredPerishSix Feet UnderPostponeExpireExtinctCroakMurderedNo MoreSlainPass AwayCheck OutPassed OnPerishedGive Up The GhostLay Down One S LifeSlaughteredBuy ItPass OnSlip AwayWith GodAs Dead As A DoornailBite The Big OneBreathe One S LastCash In One S ChipsCross The Great DivideGo The Way Of All FleshGo To Meet One S MakerGo To One S Last Resting PlaceKick The BucketLamentedLose One S LifeMeet One S DeathMeet One S EndPushing Up DaisiesTurn Up One S Toes
Author:Mokokoma Mokhonoana
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“I have died at the ripe age of twenty. Smile, for the world didn't get a chance to disappoint me. I have died at the mature age of ninety. Smile, for my life was more than satisfying. I have died suddenly—out of the blue. Smile, for I didn't have to fall ill before you. I have died from a long illness. Smile, for I had the chance to say goodbye. I did not want to leave this Earth. But smile, for I am still here among you. Why are you crying? Can you not see I am smiling?”

AgeEarthDeathFaithHopeChanceLossGriefCourageDyingCrySadLosingDiedSmileIllIllnessUpsetGuidanceMourningGoodbyeSatisfyingDieCryingNinetyMournKamandKojouriKamand KojouriDisappointSmilingSatisfySuddenlyTwenty
Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“Jesus didn’t have to extend His love. He didn’t have to think of me when He went up on that cross. He didn’t have to rewrite my story from one of beauty to one of brokenness and create a whole new brand of beauty. He simply didn’t have to do it, but He did. He bought me. He bought me that day He died, and He showed His power when He overcame death and rose from the grave. He overcame my death in that moment. He overcame my fear of death in that unbelievable, beautiful moment, and the fruit of that death, that resurrection, and that stunning grace is peace. It is the hardest peace, because it is brutal. Horribly brutal and ugly, and we want to look away, but it is the greatest, greatest story that ever was. And it was, and it is.”

PainDeathSufferingHopeJesusDyingCancerResurrectionThe Cross
Book:The Hardest Peace: Expecting Grace in the Midst of Life's Hard
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“We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us. Santone, then, cannot be blamed for this cold gray fog that came and kissed the lips of the three thousand, and then delivered them to the cross. That night the tubercles, whose ravages hope holds in check, multiplied. The writhing fingers of the pale mist did not go thence bloodless. Many of the wooers of ozone capitulated with the enemy that night, turning their faces to the wall in that dumb, isolated apathy that so terrifies their watchers. On the red stream of Hemorrhagia a few souls drifted away, leaving behind pathetic heaps, white and chill as the fog itself. Two or three came to view this atmospheric wraith as the ghost of impossible joys, sent to whisper to them of the egregious folly it is to inhale breath into the lungs, only to exhale it again, and these used whatever came handy to their relief, pistols, gas or the beneficent muriate. - A Fog in Santone (1898-1901)”

DyingIllnessWeather
Book:Short stories
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“The time of a man's life is as a point; the substance of it ever flowing, the sense obscure; and the whole composition of the body tending to corruption. His soul is restless, fortune uncertain, and fame doubtful; to be brief, as a stream so are all things belonging to the body; as a dream, or as a smoke, so are all that belong unto the soul. Our life is a warfare, and a mere pilgrimage. Fame after life is no better than oblivion. What is it then that will adhere and follow? Only one thing, philosophy. And philosophy doth consist in this, for a man to preserve that spirit which is within him, from all manner of contumelies and injuries, and above all pains or pleasures; never to do anything either rashly, or feignedly, or hypocritically: only to depend from himself, and his own proper actions: all things that happen unto him to embrace contentendly, as coming from Him from whom he himself also came; and above all things, with all meekness and a calm cheerfulness, to expect death, as being nothing else but the resolution of those elements, of which every creature is composed. And if the elements themselves suffer nothing by their perpetual conversion of one into another, that dissolution, and alteration, which is so common unto all, why should it be feared by any? Is not this according to nature? But nothing that is according to nature can be evil.”

Philosophy
Book:Meditations
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