dying-at-home

Although it's great to appear to a feast, home is always sweet, though it may be lonely and cold like death

I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)

oh. she heard it too-no waters coursing, canyon empty, sun soundless- and the beast your life nowhere hiding (p. 103)

...gripping the rim of the sink you claw your way to stand and cling there, quaking with will, on heron legs, and still the hot muck pours out of you. (p. 27)

I live nearby a graveyard, that's where I get all my inspiration for wisdom and life

Each man lives in his own universe and when he dies the world is over

Dreams, just dreams, it's all illusion

We all want to become more than we are, we want to live forever, that is why we hate death and create the afterlife.

During the last week of her father's life, Blanca stayed home with him. 'I didn't bathe. I didn't sleep. I sat in the bed with him in the living room. And we were communicating all the time. I kept thinking, and it's more beautiful in Spanish, but I wanted to bottle his breathing.

We die a day at a time

The world slides, the world goes, and death makes equal the rich and the poor

Though we are terrorized by death, it's not different from birth, it just happens

A tired man lay down his headin a dusty room so dim,and for so long his wife did shakeand yell to waken him.Meanwhile his thoughts, his dreams, did stirof sandy, red bullfights,of powder-blasts in the airand carnival delights.Yet still his wife was in despairin a dusty room so dim,for she knew death was a whorenot far from tempting him.

It's a harrowing experience to see death approaching in haste towards you, what is hell but confronting your own mortality

The end came as dusk fell on a gloomy winter day of cold rain.