Quotes About Life

Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order

I have a very simple philosophy of life: Kindness. Ferocious, unrelenting, ruthless, committed, passionate, kindness. Life is sacred everywhere. We all have better things to do than beat each other up. Arguing for the exception is to invest it with energy, it's to negotiate the loophole. The commitment to kindness must be total.

Life is full of little surprises. Time travel is full of big ones.

Because God lives forever and I will not, I can experience the several different times of my life knowing that they are part of a bigger picture that I cannot see but which is visible to a good and wise God who sees the whole as beautiful.

Those without Christ often abandon themselves to eating and drinking because sometimes it looks as if that's all there is to do before we die. But those who love Christ cherish eating and drinking because it looks a little like what we will do after we die.

While he, the immortal One, would not be overcome by death, he would die for the eternal life of us mortals.

The church's one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord; she is his new creation by water and the Word. From heaven he came and sought her to be his holy bride; with his own blood he bought her, and for her life he died. Samuel J. Stone (1839–1900)

sá»± bí ?n c?a ng??i nào Ä'ó xu?t hi?n và bi?n m?t trong cuá»™c ??i b?n suy cho cùng l?i ch?ng ph?i Ä'i?u gì quá bí hi?m.

Sex and love are inseparable, like life and consciousness. —D. H. LAWRENCE

It was a tough break. Parry was innocent. On top of that he was a decent sort of guy who never bothered people and wanted to lead a quiet life. But there was too much on the other side and on his side of it there was practically nothing. The judge handed him a life sentence and he was taken to San Quentin.

This is the only boundary that nature herself imposes on us, the limitations on what we can accomplish, in space and time, with one body and one life.

I did not believe in god, but I was beginning to believe in miracles, miracles and whatever is the opposite of miracles, terrible wonders. Yes, this life is a whirlwind, and what can guide us through it? Not our eyes, not our ears, not our brain. What difference does it make what we believe?

Everything you know and dream of is nothing, not even a speck of what is. The life of even the tiniest ant is as infinitely complex as a man's and the life of a man is like a god's. And even this vast whole is enclosed in my endlessness like the faintest glimmer of the first thought on the dawn of the first day of creation. Everything is still possible. You have not yet begun to live.

Once, on a sleepless night, I elaborated a whole theory of art predicated on simply reminding the ever-forgetful mind of the most basic truths: We float in water and revolve around the sun. We are born out of a woman's body and are made of meat and bone. One day, pretty soon, we will die.

Sex and desire is the one realm of life where justice is not only impossible, it's inconceivable.

human existence is itself a form of debt.

I have dwelt on the Lele in such detail in part because I wanted to convey some sense of why I was using the term "human economy," what life is like inside one, what sort of dramas fill people's days, and how money typically operates in the midst of all this.

Cleaning is a necessary function: things get dusty even if they just sit there, and the ordinary conduct of life tends to leave traces that need to be tidied up. But cleaning up after someone who makes a completely gratuitous and unnecessary mess is always irritating.

The fact that we find it hard to imagine how such an alternative life could be endlessly engaging and interesting is perhaps more a reflection on the limits of our imaginations than on the life itself.

For me, this is exactly what's so pernicious about the morality of debt: the way that financial imperatives constantly try to reduce us all, despite ourselves, to the equivalent of pillagers, eyeing the world simply for what can be turned into money—and then tell us that it's only those who are willing to see the world as pillagers who deserve access to the resources required to pursue anything in life other than money.

Most of these rituals have been gradually brushed aside as pagan superstition or repackaged as tourist attractions (or both). For the most part, all we're left with as an alternative to our mundane lives are our 'national holidays': frantic periods of over-consumption, crammed in the gaps between work, in which we entertain solemn injunctions that consumption isn't really what matters about life.

A man, being born, is a debt; by his own self he is born to Death

One gets the sense that indigenous life was, to put it very crudely, just a lot more interesting than life in a 'Western' town or city, especially insofar as the latter involved long hours of monotonous, repetitive, conceptually empty activity. The fact that we find it hard to imagine how such an alternative life could be endlessly engaging and interesting is perhaps more a reflection on the limits of our imagination than on the life itself.

Someone once figured out that the average American will spend a cumulative six months of her life waiting for the light to change.