death-and-dying

The mind is a useful tool but not a very good friend.

Time is life.Time for birth, time for death.

...the kind of weather that reminds you after a long winter that while the world wasn't built for humans, we were built for the world. t

One day I wish to die, but today, I wish to live.

Sadly enough, the most painful goodbyes are the ones that are left unsaid and never explained.

Your life can end at any time, and it can end more than once. But it can also begin more than once.

The man died inside cannot live outside. _

It's a strange experience, dying. People talk about how it creeps over you like a warm blanket. That's not true. It starts out warm, but then it hits you like a bucket of icy water after stepping out of a sweat lodge. Then it's all black like a void. I would know. I died and lived to tell about it.

Death is easy, living difficult.

Here now in his triumph where all things falter, Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread,As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.

Jöns: But feel, to the very end, the triumph of being alive!

Death is the first and final entry in the book of this life.

Anything man can make, man can destroy.

The picture enclosed here is of a hibiscus that has been flowering in the parlor window one bloom at a time for what seems like a year or more. It__ getting to where I don__ remember when there wasn__ a bud or two and a flower either out or on the way.This morning there is a fresh new flower just like the one in the picture, but right next to it is the one that was new yesterday and is already spent. I don__ know whether to be happy for the beautiful one or sad for the one that is gone. I guess if I wait until tomorrow I can be sad for the one that is so beautiful now. But how can I anticipate being sad for something that is so pretty?It__ really a good thing that people can only __ee_ the present because we are on the same train as a hibiscus except that we are on a longer trip. I__e told you before but it fits in here so I will say it again. Sometimes I get feeling so good that I get afraid to anticipate the loss. If life could be a series of beautiful scenes and beautiful music and pleasant visits with people we love, then life should just go on forever. I suppose that__ why people get old and feeble with wandering minds. What is can end without too much loss, and what was did not stop so will be forever. Right now and as far as I can see, I want to be this morning__ flower. I__l be a hibiscus. You be a rose_

Death is not a tragedy to the one who dies; to have wasted the life before that death, that is the tragedy.

In a sense, we are all crashing to our death from the top story of our birth ... and wondering with an immortal Alice at the patterns of the passing wall. This capacity to wonder at trifles - no matter the imminent peril - these asides of the spirit ... are the highest form of consciousness.

So many things that are so dramatic or exciting when you read about them actually happen so simply and quietly. We humans like to consider ourselves important to creation and to the world, and we expect that whenever death comes it should be with a crash of thunder and wild shouts or something, or with soft music around and people looking grave and serious. We always have it that way in the theatre because it makes us believe in our importance. Most of our life is a matter of dressing ourselves up to believe in just that, dressing ourselves in attractive clothes, in titles, in reputations. Actually, at base we all realize that we're just a frightened bundle of animals, still afraid of the unknown, and still afraid of thousands of things that can separate us from life, and trying to shield ourselves from our own smallness.

But never has the Call been so clearAs now, when death__ cool handEases my spirit from my fevered body--And I answer the Call of the Master__he Call to new Heights.