Quotes About Life

Well, Koshy Saar may not believe in God, but it's a good thing that God believes in that old man. Why else did he send him into your life?

What did it matter? We are dying while we are living. We are old even when we're young. We are clinging to life even as we resign ourselves to leaving it.

It's fiction! Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives!

In a life, it is the in-betweens that are fatal. It is the indecisiveness that killed his son.

we are merely renting these bodies of ours. You came into this world on an in breath. You will exit on an out breath. Hence, we say that someone has . . . ? 'Expired'!

The moment he jumped clear of the dugout, the moment his feet touched solid ground, he knew he'd cheated death. But he hadn't felt safe till this moment of seeing Parambil. He'd always imagined that as an adult he'd live in a bustling city far away from here, a place full of life. Only now has he grasped just how vital Parambil is to him, as necessary as his heart or his lungs. One leaves home at one's own peril.

What she thought was her life is all maya, all illusion, but it is one shared illusion. And what else can she do but go on.

Literacy alters patterns of life that have gone undisturbed for generations.

it is a reminder that the sweetness of life comes with bitterness.

this water that is our covenant with You, with this soil, with the Life you granted us. We are born and baptized in this water, we grow full of pride, we sin,we are broken, we suffer, but with water we are cleansed of our transgressions, we are forgiven, and we are born again, day after day till the end of our days.

O man you are busy working for the world, and the world is busy trying to turn you out.

Death is the easiest of all things after it, and the hardest of all things before it.

Have an earnestness for death and you will have life.

The few weeks I have had at my disposal have not given me the chance to revive and to work through my old memories in such a way that I might offer you a solid introduction into the psychic life of Indians.

Perhaps history had dwindled away. Their lives, Lydia's and Silas's, the whole country's, had become ordinary things. Not worth recording any longer, not worth the few precious moments of her busy day.

Dying is easy. Comedy is difficult.

this life is a fist of fast wishes caught by nothing but the fishhook of tomorrow's tug.

and I never knew survival was like that. If you live, you look back and beg for it again, the hazardous bliss before you know what you would miss.

I will play on this blessed earth until I die.

But what I forgot was that it was our plan, not hers, not the one doing the dying, this was a plan for those who still had a next. See, our job was simple: keep on living. Her job was harder, the hardest.

No one wants to be remembered for their death, or rather, I don't. So why do I remember hers and remember hers? I

Annie Dillard once wrote, "How we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour and that one is what we are doing." I think about this a lot when I'm planning my day and what sort of pleasure I might suck out of its marrow during these tumultuous times of constant upheaval and war. Sometimes that means noticing even the most mundane of tasks in order to know we are alive, that we are living.

I think a lot about the word tenacity. What it takes to survive in a world that is sometimes beautiful and sometimes hostile. I'm always amazed at the body's willingness to continue, to keep going. The heart that keeps pumping, the lungs that keep breathing, the way the will to live can outsmart those other dark voices inside.

A view of some tree breathing and the mind's wheels ease up on the pavement's tug. That tree, that one willowy thing over there, can save a life, you know? It saves by not trying, a leaf like some note slipped under the locked blue door (bathtub full, despair's drunk), a small live letter that says only, Stay.