What I look forward to is continued immaturity followed by death.

What I look forward to is continued immaturity followed by death.

One might say, for example, that a patient has a kind of St Vitus's dance; a kind of dropsy; a read more

One might say, for example, that a patient has a kind of St Vitus's dance; a kind of dropsy; a kind of nerve fever; a kind of ague. One would never say, however (to end once and for all the confusion of these names) "He has St. Vitus's dance," "He has nerve fever," "He has dropsy," "He has ague," since there simply are not any fixed, unchanging diseases to be known by such names.

There is but one freedom, to put oneself right with death. After that everything is possible. I cannot force you read more

There is but one freedom, to put oneself right with death. After that everything is possible. I cannot force you to believe in God. Believing in God amounts to coming to terms with death. When you have accepted death, the problem of God will be solved--and not the reverse.

Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the read more

Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.

Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.

For them that think death's honesty won't fall upon them naturally life sometimes must get lonely.

For them that think death's honesty won't fall upon them naturally life sometimes must get lonely.

Death-the last voyage, the longest and the best.

Death-the last voyage, the longest and the best.

I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable read more

I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable grayness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamor, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.