whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm.
yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.
Stichwörter: death sad romeo-and-juliet
Beware:
At war
Or at peace,
More people die
Of unenlightened self-interest
Than of any other disease.
Stichwörter: peace war death science-fiction selfishness self-interest unenlightened-self-interest
Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its students."
[Letter, November 1856]
Stichwörter: life time death mortality true lessons
Again the ranch is on the market and they’ve shipped out the last of the horses, paid everybody off the day before, the owner saying, ‘Give them to the real estate shark, I’m out a here,” dropping the keys in Ennis’s hand. He might have to stay with his married daughter until he picks up another job, yet he is suffused with a sense of pleasure because Jack Twist was in his dream.
Annie ProulxStichwörter: love death cowboys
People were excited by violence. What, after all, was the sexual act but a voluntarily endured assault, a momentary death?
P.D. JamesStichwörter: death sex violence
It was the essence of life to disbelieve in death for one's self, to act as if life would continue forever. And life had to act also as if little issues were big ones. To take a realistic attitude toward life and death meant that one lapsed into unreality. Into insanity. It was ironic that the only way to keep one's sanity was to ignore that one was in an insane world or to act as if the world were sane.
Philip José FarmerStichwörter: life insanity death sanity ironic sane
Live or die, but don't poison everything.
Saul BellowAber vielleicht ist das die Natur des Todes, dass uns alles an ihm, jedes letzte Ding, unpassend erscheint.
J.M. CoetzeeStichwörter: death
I have stitched life into me like a rare organ
--from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices", written 1962
Stichwörter: life death sylvia-plath
Is despair wrong? Isn’t it the natural condition of life after a certain age? … After a number of events, what is there left but repetition and diminishment? Who wants to go on living? The eccentric, the religious, the artistic (sometimes); those with a false sense of their own worth. Soft cheeses collapse; firm cheeses indurate. Both go mouldy.
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