afterlife

If I lie down on my bed I must be here,But if I lie down in my grave I may be elsewhere.

Cauldron save you.Mother hold you.Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey.Fear no evil.Feel no pain.Go, and enter eternity.

It would be especially comforting to believe that I have the answer to the question, What happens when we die? Does the light just go out and that__ that__he million-year nap? Or will some part of my personality, my me-ness, persist? What will that feel like? What will I do all day? Is there a place to plug in my laptop?

In the grand scheme of life, nobody grows old keeping their soul unblemished.

The day after Paul Newman was dead, he was twice as dead.

Of all the miracles Po had seen in the time and space of its death, Po thought this--the absorption of another, the carrying of it--was the most bewildering and remarkable of all. Whenever Bundle separated again, Po was left with an ache of sadness that reminded the ghost of the body it had left behind.

The dead are merely the countrymen of my future.

Death is not the end.

I think we__e already dead, dude. Not everyone, just Deckers. The whole Death-Cast thing seems too fantasy to be true. Knowing when our last day is going down so we can live it right? Straight-up fantasy. The first afterlife kicks off when Death-Cast tells us to live out our day knowing it__ our last; that way we__l take full advantage of it, thinking we__e still alive. Then we enter the next and final afterlife without any regrets

I once went to report on a village in Russia, a community of artists who were forced to flee the cities! I'd heard that paintings hung everywhere! I heard you couldn't see the walls through all of the paintings! They'd painted the ceilings, the 82plates, the windows, the lampshades! Was it an act of rebellion! An act of expression! Were the paintings good, or was that beside the point! I needed to see it for myself, and I needed to tell the world about it! I used to live for reporting like that! Stalin found out about the community and sent his thugs in, just a few days before I got there, to break all of their arms! That was worse than killing them! It was a horrible sight, Oskar: their arms in crude splints, straight in front of them like zombies! They couldn't feed themselves, because they couldn't get their hands to their mouths! So you know what they did!' 'They starved?' 'They fed each other! That's the difference between heaven and hell! In hell we starve! In heaven we feed each other!

In a world where people are too languid to make something of themselves out of effort, I sell them hope. What they do with it is up to them. Invariably they drink it and then hurl it down a gutter, but that__ their choice and their freedom. I won__ judge them.

Father never went into depth about what happened if I woke up, unable to remember how I__ died, but most definitely in the hands of those not selected to have s__ores and sleepovers for all of eternity.

It must not be thought, however, that in pagan Ireland Fairyland was altogether conceived as a Hades or place of the dead. We have already seen that in some of its types and aspects it was inherently nothing of the sort; as when, for example, it came to be confused with the Land of the Gods. In all likelihood these separate paradises and deadlands of a nature so various were the result of the stratified beliefs of successive races dwelling in the same region. A conquering race would scarcely credit that its heroes would, after death, betake themselves to the deadland of the beaten and enslaved aborigines. The gods of vanquished races might be conceived as presiding over spheres of the dead for which their victors would have nothing but contempt, and which, because of that very contempt, might come to be conceived as hells or places of a debased and grovelling kind, pestiferous regions which only the spirits of despised "natives" or the undesirable might inhabit.

Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.

The strongest intimidation, by the way, is the invention of a hereafter with a hell everlasting.

Some people think they are holier than othersSome religions think they are the only true onesSome gods think they are the most divineSome races think they are a superior breedThe war goes on to the grave and beyond

Endings are not always bad. Most times they're just beginnings in disguise.

Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us.