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Life And Death Quotes

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Life And Death Quotes

“When the anthropologist asked the Kwakiutl for a map of their coast, they told him stories: "Here? Salmon gather. Here? Sea otter camps. Here seal sleep. Here we say body covered with mouths." How can a place have a name? A man, a woman may have a name, but they die. We are a story until we die. Then our names are very dangerous. A place is a story happening many times.”

“It wasn’t until the music came to a complete halt, and out on the dance floor a couple of the waitresses came carrying a black plaque with Amir written on it and right behind a massive bottle of champagne. Everyone around the table was dancing and completely oblivious to the extravaganza taking place in front of them. One of the waiters popped the bottle open and started to pour glasses for everyone. Tara took one but she felt a little guilty. The black plaque with Amir’s name eerily reminded her of the same black plaque they carry at funerals in Iran. It reminded her of her grandfather’s passing. They carry the card to ensure all family members see you in the chaos that is the cemetery. And here, she thought to herself, how different can one world be for two groups? One group frolic around, draped in luxury to celebrate life and the other, wail in black, to mourn death.”

“Life is in different stages. Every stage of life is the foundation for the next stage of life. Every stage of live must be fully-lived.”

“Do we reflect on life? Someday this life will be gone.”

“As a Buddhist monk, I believe that there is a next life. The Buddhist practice of tantra, in particular, contains many unique preparations for death and it is very important for practitioners to familiarize ourselves with them so that we can actualize these practices when we die. Therefore, in my daily practice, I meditate on my own death and rebirth repeatedly. This is supposed to prepare me for death, but I’m still not sure whether or not I’ll be equipped to handle it when it actually comes. Sometimes I feel that when it does, I might start getting excited about whether or not I’ll be able to implement these practices effectively.”

“One has to die to the separate self in oder to find the universal Self or God […] as the mystics everywhere have repeatedly told us, it is only in accepting death that real life is found. (A Universe within, p. 79)”

“A principled life begins by accepting the evident truth that we must die. Death becomes us. Knowledge of the impermanence of our existence reassures us that how we live does make a difference. Because our allotted time for living is finite, we must make the most of each day.”

“In this jangle of causes and effects, what had become of their true selves? Here Leonard lay dead in the garden, from natural causes; yet life was a deep, deep river, death a blue sky, life was a house, death a wisp of hay, a flower, a tower, life and death were anything and everything, except this ordered insanity, where the king takes the queen, and the ace the king. Ah, no; there was beauty and adventure behind, such as the man at her feet had yearned for; there was hope this side of the grave; there were truer relationships beyond the limits that fetter us now. As a prisoner looks up and sees stars beckoning, so she, from the turmoil and horror of those days, caught glimpses of the diviner wheels.”

“Hershey Pennsylvania was self-proclaimed as the “Sweetest Place On Earth,” but less advertised than chocolate, it was also home to one of the state’s largest Children’s Hospitals. The streets lined with Hershey Kiss–shaped streetlamps that led excited children and families on vacation to chocolate tour rides and rollercoasters were the same exact streets that led anxious children and families to x-rays and MRIs on the worsts days of their lives. Chocolate was being created on the same street that childhood diseases were being diagnosed. And that was life. The sweetest of sensations and the deepest of devastations live next door to each other.”

“Every person creates the afterlife they feel they deserve. . . Whole cultures do the same thing. They write their own afterlife stories, specific to their culture's desires and values. . . But eventually your consciousness sputters out. You dissipate. You fade to black. Just like how eventually our whole world, every culture, will explode and we'll all just be fucking cosmic dust. We'll all dissipate. We'll all be nothing and everything. What's more spiritual than that?”

“I’d wish it were easier to not allow other people’s pasts to create my own present.”

“Death is the destiny of every man. Why do people fight over power and material wealth. We brought nothing into the world, certainly, we will take nothing out of the world.”

“My brother . . . he used to say we fall through life like water. Just as a river gives itself to the ocean, so too will our paths meet their end. But we will never find ourselves alone. That’s what he always told me. We will reunite at the confluence, in time, for all rivers empty to the sea where they may rest.”

“Humans recognize the duality, autonomy, and latitude range of the mind and the body, and all humans comprehend their impending mortality. Unlike other animals, humankind knows despair brought about by understanding the inevitability of death of all living creatures. The radius of human thought touching upon the longitude of our transient existence causes infinite pain. Seeking to ameliorate existential anguish incites us to ponder spiritual matters, and this sphere of mental activity spurs us to contemplate the perimeter of unknown frontiers. Our ability to understand the compass of life and death allows us to view the circumference of the world as consisting of a past, a present, and a future in relation to our own lives. How a person views the range of their earthly life and how a person rationalizes their march towards a deathly outback creates a system of beliefs that separate people into classes, and the variations amongst class members’ belief systems supplements who we think we are.”

“Leaves go through so much. I love to pause and contemplate the effective lessons that the Weaver teaches through His creations in nature. Everything the Weaver creates has a singular blueprint that can never be replicated—a grain of sand, a snowflake, a human thumbprint and a leaf. You are never repeated and never will be because the Weaver sees you as precious and infinite. Everything in nature sings of the Weaver’s love for humanity, comforts with what lies in the unknown and tells you all you need to know about your purpose here and where you go after this short time on Earth.”

“Try not to breathe,” I tell Lira. “It might get stuck halfway out.” Lira flicks up her hood. “You should try not to talk then,” she retorts. “Nobody wants your words being preserved for eternity.” “They’re pearls of wisdom, actually.” I can barely see Lira’s eyes under the mass of dark fur from her coat, but the mirthless curl of her smile is ever-present. It lingers in calculated amusement as she considers what to say next. Readies to ricochet the next blow. Lira pulls a line of ice from her hair, artfully indifferent. “If that is what pearls are worth these days, I’ll make sure to invest in diamonds.” “Or gold,” I tell her smugly. “I hear it’s worth its weight.” Kye shakes the snow from his sword and scoffs. “Anytime you two want to stop making me feel nauseated, go right ahead.” “Are you jealous because I’m not flirting with you?” Madrid asks him, warming her finger on the trigger mechanism of her gun. “I don’t need you to flirt with me,” he says. “I already know you find me irresistible.” Madrid reholsters her gun. “It’s actually quite easy to resist you when you’re dressed like that.” Kye looks down at the sleek red coat fitted snugly to his lithe frame. The fur collar cuddles against his jaw and obscures the bottoms of his ears, making it seem as though he has no neck at all. He throws Madrid a smile. “Is it because you think I look sexier wearing nothing?” Torik lets out a withering sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. I’m not sure whether it’s from the hours we’ve gone without food or his inability to wear cutoffs in the biting cold, but his patience seems to be wearing thin. “I could swear that I’m on a life-and-death mission with a bunch of lusty kids,” he says. “Next thing I know, the lot of you will be writing love notes in rum bottles.” “Okay,” Madrid says. “Now I feel nauseated.” I laugh.”

“Humankind’s pathetic life supplies the poetry of our existence. Just as without tragedy comedy would lose its magical qualities, life without pain and absent knowledge of the inevitability of our death would result in our brief existence devoid of any note of sincerity and our lives ending without an apt punctuation mark.”

“The public space of the museum is not my favorite, loud and full of tourists and school groups and hungry hordes. Their curiosity is endearing---they're acolytes for the natural world. And the marble gleams with architectural detail and precious objects all around. But on these, my gray days, entering the building carries the weight of death: all the specimens, thousands of carcasses of every species, stuffed or otherwise retrieved from oblivion so we can know them, yet all dead. The birds I draw and paint, all dead. On these days, my only defense is to imagine every pinned butterfly taking wing, every stuffed marsupial waking up, every preserved plant specimen blooming and carpeting the marble floor like a time-lapse forest, and every bird coming to life, flying up to the dome and away. On the days when the fog comes and hooks into my gut like a sharp-toothed parasite, these visions can save me. The steadier, more consistent salvation, of course, is the work. I can lose myself for hours drawing, for instance, the common loon, with its inky head, white banding at the neck, and an intricacy of pin dots and fractured rectangles cascading across the wings. With the right precision, I can bring the deadness of a bird skin to a striking facsimile of life.”

“Each day you wake up, you wake up with billions around the world but when the sun sets, not all retire. It is a joyful privilege to note that you are a unique person among billions of people who wake up each day to walk on the surface of the earth. It is a noble responsibility to note that you have to use this privilege effectively.”