Quotes About Life

Don't think I can't see your point of view — you're a young fellow, disappointed in love, impatient — naturally you think Fate's against you. Take it from me, Fate doesn't care either way most of the time.

Ä°lginç ÅŸeyler oluyordu, ama daima baÅŸkalar?na oluyordu.

Morta? - repetiu Sophie. Ela teve o tolo impulso de acrescentar: Mas estava viva a uma hora! No entanto, se conteve, porque a morte é assim: as pessoas estão vivas até que morrem.

Dead? said Sophie. She had a silly impulse to add, But she was alive an hour ago! And she stopped herself, because death is like that: people are alive until they die.

It's like life," Clennen said. "You may wonder what goes on inside, but what matters is the look of it and the kind of performance we give.

I'm getting a figure now, by the way. If I breathe in, I almost have a waist. How about you?" "Sort of," said Polly. As Granny remarked when Polly introduced her to Fiona, both their figures were a pinch of faith, a spoonful of charity, and the rest entirely hope. But she admired Fiona's red hair and told them both not to wish their lives away. (p. 259-260)

people do lose sight of their ideals quite often in adolescence and young adulthood; they tend to see life as far too complex and then come up with the idea that things are only real and valid if they are unpleasant or boring.

The sensory misers will inherit the earth, but first they will make it not worth living on. When you consider something like death, after which we may well go out like a candle flame, then it probably won't matter if we try too hard, are awkward sometimes, care for one another too deeply, are excessively curious about nature, are too open to experience, enjoy a nonstop expense of the senses in an effort to know life intimately and lovingly.

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the lenght of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.

There is a furnace in our cells, and when we breathe we pass the world through our bodies, brew it lightly, and turn it loose again, gently altered for having known us.

No matter how politely one says it, we owe our existence to the farts of blue-green algae.

A life like an intricately woven basket, frayed, worn, broken, unraveled, reworked, reknit from many of its original pieces... Life can survive in the constant shadow of illness, and even rise to moments of rampant joy, but the shadow remains, and one has to make space for it.

Out of the blue, Paul reported feeling bouts of calm euphoria, a mystical sense of all's-right-with-his-life-and-the-universe, a bright future in sight. ... I knew well the state of vigorous calm he meant, a frequent visitor throughout my own life. [p. 290]

Much of life becomes background, but it is the province of art to throw buckets of light into the shadows and make life a new again.

We carry the ocean within us; our veins mirror the tides.

Our days flowed around well-charted, often traveled courses, and yet, the underlying sense of falling out of time, out of the trajectory of one's life, not by choice, but by subtraction, was frequent and disquieting. Then I grieved for him, for the lost and previous Paul. He grieved for that man too. Both our griefs were mainly private, internal, unuttered. Return was impossible, and there was only one direction open ; and so we kept our compass pointed forward. [p. 286]

It began in mystery and it will end in mystery, but what a rare and beautiful country lies in between.

Like tiny islands on the horizon, they can vanish in rough seas. Even in calm weather, their coral gradually erodes, pickled by salt and heat. Yet they form the shoals of a life. Some offer safe lagoons and murmuring trees. Others crawl with pirates and reptiles. Together they connect a self with the mainland and society. Plot their trail and a mercurial past becomes visible. Memories feel geological in their repose, solid and true, the bedrock of consciousness.

The sea is a spirit level, a pantry, a playground, a mansion rowdy with life, a majestic reminder of our origins, another kind of body (a body of water), and female because of her monthly tides. But her bones are growing brittle, her brine turning ever more acidic from all the CO2 we've slathered into the air and all the fertilizer runoff from our fields.

Every moment is great, we were taught, every moment s unique.

The faint pink coating the treetops promised rippling buds, a sure sign of spring hastening in, right on schedule, and the animal world getting ready for its fiesta of courting and mating, dueling and dancing, suckling and grubbing, costume-making and shedding-in short, the fuzzy, fizzy hoopla of life's ramshackle return.

I have one talent, he wrote, and that is the capacity to be tremendously surprised, surprised at life, at ideas.

Kiddush ha-Shem, the principle of service to God, acquired a new definition in the Ghetto, where it became the struggle to preserve life in the face of destruction.

Before annihilation comes an exile from Nature, and then only through wonder and transcendence, the Ghetto rabbi taught, may one combat the psychic disintegration of everyday life.