Quotes About Immortality

Just a corner, just an instant, just a poem away lay an unimaginably rich world where gods walked alongside the chosen few; and if you ever won your way there, your reward was meaning conferred upon your daily labors and travails by the promise of immortality, by the clarity of secret luminescence.

The bird does not have an instinct to fly South in winter without a real South to match it; nor has the Creator given to us these heart yearnings, soul longings for a larger, completer life, for an opportunity for a full expression of our possibilities, nor the longing for immortality, without a reality to match them.

Let's fly away and live forever

Two trees—knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge, and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life, and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying.

It's there in your own Bible, Carlotta. Two trees—knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge, and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life, and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying.

We could live forever, if we were willing to be stupid the whole time. Surely you're not saying that God had to choose between long life and intelligence for human beings! It's there in your own Bible, Carlotta. Two trees — knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge, and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life, and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying.

God made us with death inside, and also with intelligence. We have our seventy years or so, perhaps ninety, with care in the mountains of Georgia, a hundred and thirty is not unheard of, though I personally believe they are all liars. They would claim to be immortal if they thought they could get away with it. We could live forever, if we were willing to be stupid the whole time.

I'll tell your story,' said Ender. 'Then I will truly live forever.

I'm a mammal," said Bean. "I try to live forever whether I actually want to or not.

Our works in stone, in paint, in print, are spared, some of them, for a few decades or a millennium or two, but everything must finally fall in war, or wear away into the ultimate and universal ash - the triumphs, the frauds, the treasures and the fakes. A fact of life: we're going to die. Be of good heart, cry the dead artists out of the living past. Our songs will all be silenced, but what of it? Go on singing. Maybe a man's name doesn't matter all that much.

I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die.

To live on in the memory of others means that you do not die.

He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.

His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.

Ever is a long time.

The judge is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.

In their images they had thought to find some small immortality but oblivion cannot be appeased.

He is dancing, dancing. He says he'll never die.

He never sleeps. He says that he will never die.

He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.

Words are immortal - Elinor

Buku-buku akan mencintai siapapun yang membukanya, memberi kita perlindungan dan persahabatan serta tidak menuntut apa pun sebagai balasan. Buku-buku tak pernah pergi meninggalkan kita, sekali pun, bahkan meski kita memperlakukannya dengan buruk.

Os livros eram o único lugar onde havia compaixão, consolo, alegria... e amor. Os livros amavam a todos que os abriam, ofereciam proteção e amizade sem exigir nada em troca, e nunca iam embora, nunca, mesmo quando não eram bem tratados. Amor, verdade, beleza, sabedoria e consolo perante a morte.

In books I meet the dead as if they were alive, in books I see what is yet to come … All things decay and pass with time … all fame would fall victim to oblivion if God had not given mortal men the book to aid them. Richard de Bury, The Philobiblon