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Quote by Nenia Campbell

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Through a Glass, Darkly

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Nenia Campbell

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“I didn't want to wait on my knees In a room made quiet by waiting. A room where we'd listen for the rise Of breath, the burble in his throat. I didn't want the orchids or the trays Of food meant to fortify that silence, Or to pray for him to stay or to go then Finally toward that ecstatic light. I didn't want to believe What we believe in those rooms: That we are blessed, letting go, Letting someone, anyone, Drag open the drapes and heave us Back into our blinding, bright lives.”

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“…questioning the existence of God may begin because of one’s sense of disappointment rather than because of a line of reasoning. Disappointment can bring disillusionment, and disillusionment can get quite a grip on us. It may be the case that, next to the grip of disillusionment, whatever reasons we can think of to believe that God exists or that God is good will appear weak. So sometimes the reason we do not believe or the reason we stop believing is not the intellectual challenge to believing in God. Sometimes, the grip of disillusionment cannot be matched by things that seem to be only abstract or theoretical.”

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Book:Thinking About God: First Steps in Philosophy
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“We may, indeed, say that the hour of death is uncertain, but when we say this we think of that hour as situated in a vague and remorse expanse of time; it does not occur to us that it can have any connexion with the day that has already dawned and can mean that death---or its first assault and partial possession of us, after which it will never leave hold of us again---may occur this very afternoon, so far from uncertain, this afternoon whose timetable, hour by hour, has been settled in advance.”

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“She is here. And she comes to you, and she does not speak, and the others do not notice her, and she takes your hand, and you ready yourself to die, eyes open, aware that this is all an illusion, a last aroma cast up by the chemical stew that is your brain, which will soon cease to function, and there will be nothing, and you are ready, ready to die well, ready to die like a man, like a woman, like a human, for despite all else you have loved, you have loved your father and your mother and your brother and your sister and your son, and yes, your ex-wife, and you have loved the pretty girl, you have loved beyond yourself, and so you have courage, and you have dignity, and you have calmness in the face of terror, and awe, and the pretty girl holds your hand, and you contain her, and this book, and me writing it, and I too contain you, who may not yet even be born, you inside me inside you, though not in a creepy way, and so may you, may I, may we, so may all of us confront the end.”

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