Life's markers are never just for one moment in time. Every event holds a key. Each builds upon the other and becomes an indicator towards a higher purpose.
Elizabeth: "Maybe he'll surprise you." Meghann: "Birdie, they all surprise me. Last week, I hugged my date at the door and felt a bra strap.
The nights were long, like the braids of a pretty girl, and the days were short, like a girl's sense. ("The North")
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
I am not worried about dying, what I am worried about is not living
Life and death lived inside each other. That's what occured to me. Death was inside all of us, waiting for warmer nights, a compromised system, a beetle, as in the now dying black timber on the mountains.
Everything is true,' he said. 'Everything anybody has ever thought.' 'Will you be all right?' 'I'll be all right,' he said, and thought, And I'm going to die. Both those are true, too.
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.
Every cataclysm is welcomed by somebody; there is always someone to rejoice at disaster and see in it the prospect of a new beginning and a better world.
I'll never be ready. Yet at the same time, you always want to reach the end. You can't fly to a destination and linger in the air. I want to reach the end of this thing, and I feel terrible about it.
We have long become overgrown with calluses; we no longer hear people being killed. ("X")
You are going to end up as one of those sad old men who poke around in rubbish bins.” “I’m going to end up in a hole in the ground... And so are you. So are we all.
You can't drown yourself that simply. All good suicides involve speed and irreversibility, because the body will always move to protect itself against the sicko mind trying to do it in.
If there is nothing else there is this: to be inundated, consumed.
But...he's a demon. Isn't that sort of the main category of Things to Smite?
I just wanna have fun and breathe, but I can’t do either one of them when I suffocate myself with depression.
Sleep was a vehicle for passing the time, for avoiding the present. It was a trolley for the depressed, the impatient, and the dying.
To multiply the years and divide by the desire to live is a kind of false accounting.
Freedom is secured not by the fulfilling of men's desires, but by the removal of desire.
Felix had gone to live in a lotus land of his imagination. Where what is desired is dreamed of as already happened, where obstacles dissolve under the weight of desire, and where reality has vanished entirely.
You can become even a co-creator of this universe... an assurance coming from the Ancient Wisdom; provided you bear an appropriate WILL...
