That's ridiculous. The only point in having enemies is so you can defeat them, kill them, brush them aside." "Or give them a chance to redeem themselves.
Suicides? Heart attacks? The papers didn't seem interested. The world was full of ways to die, too many to cover. Newsworthy deaths had to be exceptional. Most people go unobserved.
One wants to live, of course, indeed one only stays alive by virtue of the fear of death, but I think, as I thought then, that it is better to die violently and not too old.
Sure, black holes can kill us, and in a variety of interesting and gruesome ways. But, all in all, we may owe our very existence to them.
Growing up in a family of gamblers, daredevils and practical jokers, I've learned a lot about timing and its first cousin, dumb luck, concepts I was introduced to while still in the womb.
In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.
If you work hard enough at something, it begins to make itself part of you, even though you do not really like it and know that part isn't real.
Daddy had a strict rule about firearms. Anything we killed we had to eat. No amount of barbecue sauce would make a hairy guy like you palatable.
Every night death came, slowly, painfully, and every morning Maddox awoke in bed, knowing he'd have to die again later. That was his greatest curse and his eternal punishment.
If death be the last thing I do, why, I pray the gods and heroes of my people that I try to do it as well as I have done more pleasant things.
We are graced with a godlike ability to transcend time and space in our minds but are chained to death.
It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way, even by death, and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment.
The brave men and women, who serve their country and as a result, live constantly with the war inside them, exist in a world of chaos. But the turmoil they experience isn’t who they are; the PTSD invades their minds and bodies.
I listened to you tell me, tell everyone, and all the world, “Praise the Lord.” You were broken, but not by bullets and bombs. You were broken by grace.
There are souls, he thought, whose umbilicus has never been cut. They never got weaned from the universe. They do not understand death as an enemy; they look forward to rotting and turning into humus.
Willingly or not we come to terms with power, forgetting that we are all in the ghetto, that the ghetto is walled in, that outside the ghetto reign the lords of death, and that close by the train is waiting." by Primo Levi in Drowned
Truth: We are the present. We are now. We are the razor's edge of history. The future flies at us and from that dark blur we shape the past. And the past is forever.
He made a sound close to a growl before speaking. “Why do you resist my assistance?” She stopped walking and faced him. “Because I don't like you.
She sagged against the wall, finding it hard to breathe. It wasn’t from fear. Gods, she hadn’t been that turned on in years. If that was her punishment, she was going to be lippy a little more often
Above all things -- read. Read the great stylists who cannot be copied rather than the successful writers who must not be copied.
Life is a story. Why do we die? Because we live. Why do we live? Because our Maker opened His mouth and began to tell a story.
