Quotes About Life

the book takes rank with those books which are bits of life rather than products of art.

So be brave in the face of death; be sad at leaving, but don't let those by your final emotions. Let it be gratitude for the life you had. And even if you think there's no one to hear you, say "Thank You.

A life takes as long as it takes to bring us to our truth, even if we only make it to our death bed.

The celebrated Parisian doctor Professor Xavier Bichat developed a fully materialist theory of the human body and mind in his lectures Physiological Researches on Life and Death, translated into English in 1816. Bichat defined life bleakly as 'the sum of the functions by which death is resisted

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky; So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! …5

Our lives are products of our mind. What we are today is a result of what we thought yesterday. What we think today influences what happens to us tomorrow. Our entire lives are products of our mind.

Pleasures in life are like a flowing river. You float away on them and are carried from lifetime to lifetime. They pursue you like hunter pursues his prey. The cycle of birth, death and rebirth goes on and on. It is a long journey for those who do not know the dharma.

Save it all; you do not knowthe value things will come to have untilthe world grows dim around you, and your things—however doubtful in the changing light,things are what you haveleft. And all you have.

Killing, resurrecting, living with a zombie. Even if she could accept all that

A coward dies many times. A brave man never tastes of death but once.

Into this life of cruel wonder sent, Without a word to tell us what it meant, Sent back again without a reason why - Birth, life, and death - 'twas all astonishment.

Good friends, beware! the only life we know Flies from us like an arrow from the bow, The caravan of life is moving by, Quick! to your places in the passing show.

To all of us the thought of heaven is dear - Why not be sure of it and make it here? No doubt there is a heaven yonder too, But 'tis so far away - and you are near. Men talk of heaven, - there is no heaven but here; Men talk of hell, - there is no hell but here; Men of hereafters talk, and future lives, O love, there is no other life - but here.

The purpose of life is to live a life of purpose.

But I was born in the image of God, a man, a creator, with power of life and death, a father, blessed with the gift of the seed of Adam, a sower of seed, to bring forth generations of new life. This I was, and envying a kettle.

Let all things be done in order, with right and decency. Those things are worth a man's life or two. Life without would be a hell, indeed.

As your father keeps clean his lamp to have good light, so keep clean your spirit.

You must learn to tell worry from thought, and thought from prayer. Sometimes a light will go from your life, Huw, and your life becomes a prayer, till you are strong enough to stand under the weight of your own thought again.

It do seem to me that the life of man is merely a pattern scrawled on Time, with little thought, little care, and no sense of design. Why is it, I wonder, that people suffer, when there is so little need, when an effort of will and some hard work would bring them from their misery into peace and contentment.

You know your Bible too well and life too little.

You must learn to tell worry from thought and thought from prayer. Sometimes a light will go from your life, and a thought becomes a prayer til you are strong enough to stand under the weight of your own thought again.

Worry, my son?...I am not worried now and I never have or will. You must learn to tell worry from thought, and thought from prayer. Sometimes a light will go from your life...and your life becomes a prayer, till you are strong enough to stand under the weight of your own thought again.

indeed I often dream of it, and I can still feel how I felt, as though I was still small, and all those people were still alive. It is very strange to think back like this, although come to think of it, there is no fence or hedge round Time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

Sing, then. Sing, indeed, with shoulders back, and head up so that song might go to the roof and beyond to the sky. Mass on mass of tone, with a hard edge, and rich with quality, every single note a carpet of colour woven from basso profundo, and basso, and baritone, and alto, and tenor, and soprano, and alto and mezzo, and contralto, singing and singing, until life and all things living are become a song. O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might.