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I hate you because you crawl within my head as she does, but your presence holds no thoughts, no teachings, you are just… there, unspoken. I hate you because you are beautiful to me. And in that weakness lies death.
Video game: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.
When the rich wage war it’s the poor who die.
Play: The Devil and the Good Lord (1951) act 1
We live, we die, and the wheels on the bus go round and round.
Movie: The Bucket List
That night, a man was killed by a speeding car and I was there to take his soul. The street on which he died turned into a flowing river of light, and he hesitated at its banks. I told him to take a deep breath as if its the last one you will ever take, because sometimes in life, or in death I guess, you just never know.
TV: Dead Like Me
The day I dropped out of college, I remember lying on my bed. My mother came into my room, and she’d been crying. She stared at me for a long time and then she said, “You only have one shot at life, Georgia. This is no dress rehearsal.” And I said, “You know what, Mom? Maybe I don’t even want to be in the play.” A month later I was killed. I wonder sometimes if someone was listening.
TV: Dead Like Me
Tell my tale to those who ask. Tell it truely; the ill deeds along with the good, and let me be judged accordingly. The rest… is silence…
TV: Beast Wars
And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, “Kurt is up in Heaven now.” That’s my favorite joke.
The man who said “I’d rather be lucky than good” saw deeply into life. People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It’s scary to think so much is out of one’s control. There are moments in a match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second, it can either go forward or fall back. With a litte luck, it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn’t, and you lose.
Movie: Match Point
A live body and a dead body contain the same number of particles. Structurally, there’s no discernable difference. Life and death are unquantifiable abstracts. Why should I be concerned?
Book: “Watchmen” by Alan Moore
And lo, the beast looked upon the face of beauty, and beauty stayed his hand. And from that day forward, he was as one dead.
Movie: King Kong
….
I don’t think so
This is your life good to the last drop
It doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life and its ending one minute at a time
This isn’t a seminar this isn’t a weekend retreat
Where you are now you can’t even imagine what the bottom will be like
Only after disaster can we be resurrected
Its only after you’ve lost everything that you are free to do anything
Nothing is static, everything is evolving
Everything is falling apart
This is your life
It doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life
And its ending one minute at a time
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world
You are not your bank account
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the contents of your wallet
You are not your bowel cancer
You are not your grande latte
You are not the car you drive
You are not your fucking khakis
You have to give up
You have to give up
You have to realise that someday you will die
Until you know that, you are useless.
I say never let me be complete
I say may I never be content
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture
I say deliver me from clever art
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth
I say you have to give up
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.
This is your life
Doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life
And its ending one minute at a time
….
I don’t think so
This is your life good to the last drop
It doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life and its ending one minute at a time
This isn’t a seminar this isn’t a weekend retreat
Where you are now you can’t even imagine what the bottom will be like
Only after disaster can we be resurrected
Its only after you’ve lost everything that you are free to do anything
Nothing is static, everything is evolving
Everything is falling apart
This is your life
It doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life
And its ending one minute at a time
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world
You are not your bank account
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the contents of your wallet
You are not your bowel cancer
You are not your grande latte
You are not the car you drive
You are not your fucking khakis
You have to give up
You have to give up
You have to realise that someday you will die
Until you know that, you are useless.
I say never let me be complete
I say may I never be content
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture
I say deliver me from clever art
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth
I say you have to give up
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.
This is your life
Doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life
And its ending one minute at a time
….
Song: This is Your Life
There’s too much beauty to quit.
Movie: Stay
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utopic /
attention, death, fallen, feeling, life, living, pages, practice, prepare, rush
#2316
Just remember, the same as a spectacular Vogue magazine, remember that no matter how close you follow the jumps: Continued on page whatever. No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn’t experience it all. There’s that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should’ve been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That’s how your whole life will feel some day. This is all practice. None of this matters. We’re just warming up.
You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.
How many lives do we live? How many times do we die? They say we all lose 21 grams… at the exact moment of our death. Everyone. And how much fits into 21 grams? How much is lost? When do we lose 21 grams? How much goes with them? How much is gained? How much is gained? Twenty-one grams. The weight of a stack of five nickels. The weight of a hummingbird. A chocolate bar. How much did 21 grams weigh?
Movie: 21 Grams
Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives.
How little the dying seem to need—
A drink perhaps, a little food,
A smile, a hand to hold, medication,
A change of clothes, an unspoken
Understanding about what’s happening.
You think it would be more, much more,
Something more difficult for us
To help with in this great disruption,
But perhaps it’s because as the huge shape
Rears up higher and darker each hour
They are anxious that we should see it too
And try to show us with a hand-squeeze.
We panic to do more for them,
And especially when it’s your father,
And his eyes are far away, and your tears
Are all down your face and clothes,
And he doesn’t see them now, but smiles
Perhaps, just perhaps because you’re there.
How little he needs. Just love. More Love.
A drink perhaps, a little food,
A smile, a hand to hold, medication,
A change of clothes, an unspoken
Understanding about what’s happening.
You think it would be more, much more,
Something more difficult for us
To help with in this great disruption,
But perhaps it’s because as the huge shape
Rears up higher and darker each hour
They are anxious that we should see it too
And try to show us with a hand-squeeze.
We panic to do more for them,
And especially when it’s your father,
And his eyes are far away, and your tears
Are all down your face and clothes,
And he doesn’t see them now, but smiles
Perhaps, just perhaps because you’re there.
How little he needs. Just love. More Love.
Book: “John Updike’s Room” - Bedside Manners
…the truth is that I already know as much about my fate as I need to know. The day will come when I will die. So the only matter of consequence before me is what I will do with my allotted time. I can remain on shore, paralyzed with fear, or I can raise my sails and dip and soar in the breeze.
Book: First You Have to Row a Little Boat : Reflections on Life & Living
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other
Then someone at my side says;
“There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad
shout,
“Here she comes!”
And that is dying
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other
Then someone at my side says;
“There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad
shout,
“Here she comes!”
And that is dying
Poem: Gone From My Sight
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter into another!
I Called Michael and he told me he just got home from a
wake. “Oh, I am sorry,” I said. “No, no,” he said, “it was
the best wake I have ever been to. The funeral home was
as warm and cozy as anyone’s living room. We had the
greatest time. My friend looked wonderful, much better
dead than alive. He wore his red and green Hawaiian shirt.
He was the most handsome corpse I’d ever seen.
They did such a good job! His daughter was there and
a lot of old friends I had not seen in years. You know,
he drank himself to death. He’d been on and off the
wagon for years, but for some reason this is what he
ended up doing.” As my friend kept talking, I thought
of Lorca and what he wrote about death and Spain: “A
dead man in Spain is more alive as a dead man that any-
place else in the world” and “Everywhere else, death is
an end. Death comes, and they draw the curtains. Not
in Spain. In Spain they open them. Many Spaniards live
indoors until the day they die and are taken out into the
sunlight.”
wake. “Oh, I am sorry,” I said. “No, no,” he said, “it was
the best wake I have ever been to. The funeral home was
as warm and cozy as anyone’s living room. We had the
greatest time. My friend looked wonderful, much better
dead than alive. He wore his red and green Hawaiian shirt.
He was the most handsome corpse I’d ever seen.
They did such a good job! His daughter was there and
a lot of old friends I had not seen in years. You know,
he drank himself to death. He’d been on and off the
wagon for years, but for some reason this is what he
ended up doing.” As my friend kept talking, I thought
of Lorca and what he wrote about death and Spain: “A
dead man in Spain is more alive as a dead man that any-
place else in the world” and “Everywhere else, death is
an end. Death comes, and they draw the curtains. Not
in Spain. In Spain they open them. Many Spaniards live
indoors until the day they die and are taken out into the
sunlight.”
Poem: “A Wake” in Astoria
DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped away into the next room,
I am I and you are you;
Whatever we were to each other, That we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used,
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we shared together.
Let my name ever be the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant,
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the
corner.
All is well.
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped away into the next room,
I am I and you are you;
Whatever we were to each other, That we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used,
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we shared together.
Let my name ever be the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant,
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the
corner.
All is well.
What’s worse: a knot in the tail or a gruesome death?
TV: Fraggle Rock, “The Terrible Tunnel”
The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle. It was the experience of mystery—even if mixed with fear-that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in their most elementary forms-it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves. An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of life, and the inkling of the marvellous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavour to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature.
Book: The World as I See It
It’s the heart afraid of breaking, that never takes a chance.
It’s the dream afraid of waking, that never learns to dance.
It’s the one who won’t be broken, that cannot seem to give.
And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.
It’s the dream afraid of waking, that never learns to dance.
It’s the one who won’t be broken, that cannot seem to give.
And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.
This one is something a friend of mine said to me. “You have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo.” I remember it right now to the “kiddo” part. But when I think about what she said, the same thing always comes into my head. What if you can’t put the pieces together in the first place?
Movie: The United States of Leland
Everybody dies, Tracey. Someone’s carrying a bullet for you right now, doesn’t even know it. The trick is to die of old age before it finds you.
TV: Firefly
Being stupid is kind of like being alive. Everyone who was ever smart is dead.
Woe, alas! to him who shall have loved forms, bodies, appearances only. Death will take all from him. Try to love souls, you shall find them again.
Book: Les Miserables
All these moments will be lost, like tears in the rain. Time to die.
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utopic /
brats, career, death, family, heroin, life, reason, selfish, television
#1587
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a big fucking television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disk players and electrical tin openers…choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on the couch, watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life. But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?
Movie: TRAINSPOTTING (1996)
We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.
Book: “Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusion and the Appetite for Wonder”, Chapter I: “The Anaesthetic of Familiarity”
Don’t knock on death’s door, ring his doorbell and run away, he hates that!
Comic: Unknown
Death makes children of us all.
Book: The Confessions of Max Tivoli
This is how Liberty dies—with thunderous applause.
Movie: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
It is the denial of death that is partially responsible for people living empty, purposeless lives; for when you live as if you’ll live forever, it becomes too easy to postpone the things you know that you must do.
Book: “Death: The Final Stage of Growth” by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
In the beginning was the Word. Then came the fucking word processor. Then came the thought processor. Then came the death of literature. And so it goes.
We live and we die and anything else is just delusion. It’s just passive chick bullshit about feelings and sensitivity. Just made-up subjective emotional crap. There is no soul. There is no God. There’s just decisions and disease and death.
Book: “Choke” by Chuck Palahniuk, pgs 156
The past is a gaping hole. You try to run from it, but the more you run, the deeper, more terrible it grows behind you, its edges yawning at your heels. Your only chance is to turn around and face it. But its like looking down into the grave of your love. Or kissing the mouth of a gun, a bullet trembling in its dark nest, ready to blow your head off.
Video game: Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne
The past is a gaping hole. Your only chance is to turn around and face it. but it’s like kissing the lips of your dead love, darkness waiting in the hole of her mouth. We are willing to suffer, to die for the things we care about. For love, for the right choices.
Video game: Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne
Death is inevitable. Our fear of it makes us play safe, blocks out emotion.
it’s a losing game, without passion you are already dead. It’s all a matter of perspective, tied to time and place, love and friendship, life and death.
it’s a losing game, without passion you are already dead. It’s all a matter of perspective, tied to time and place, love and friendship, life and death.
Video game: Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne
Death would be a beautiful place if it looked like Brad Pitt.
The shortest distance between two points is a time line, a schedule, a map of your time, the itinerary for the rest of your life. Nothing shows you the straight line from here to death like a list.
Book: “Survivor” by Chuck Palahniuk
I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it
through not dying.
through not dying.
Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can’t wear grey trousers.
Book: “Ulysses” by James Joyce
Although the time of death is approaching me, I am not afraid of dying and going to Hell or (what would be considerably worse) going to the popularized version of Heaven. I expect death to be nothingness and, for removing me from all possible fears of death, I am thankful to atheism.
PEOPLE’S WHOLE LIVES DO PASS IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES BEFORE THEY DIE. THE PROCESS IS CALLED ‘LIVING’.
Book: The Last Continent
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