Quotes About Vitality

Let me have a draught of undiluted morning air. Morning air! If men will not drink of this at the fountainhead of the day, why, then, we must even bottle up some and sell it in the shops, for the benefit of those who have lost their subscription ticket to morning time in this world.

The delicious soft, spring-suggesting air,—how it fills my veins with life! Life becomes again credible to me. A certain dormant life awakes in me, and I begin to love nature again.

None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.

I feel as if I were nearer to the vitals of the globe, for this sandy overflow is something such a foliaceous mass as the vitals of the animal body.

Morgenluft! Wenn die Menschen von ihr nicht an der Quelle des Tages trinken wollen, werden wir ein wenig von ihr auf Flaschen füllen müssen und sie in den Läden verkaufen, zum Wohle derer, die ihr Rezept für Morgenstunden in dieser Welt verloren haben.

If you would get exercise, go in search of the springs of life.

This [...] government [...] has not the vitality and force of a single living man; for a single man cam bend it to his will.

We must go out and re-ally ourselves to Nature every day. We must make root, send out some little fibre at least, even every winter day. I am sensible that I am imbibing health when I open my mouth to the wind. Staying in the house breeds a sort of insanity always. Every house is in this sense a hospital.

It would surpass the powers of a well man nowadays to take up his bed and walk, and I should certainly advise a sick one to lay down his bed and run.

To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face? We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.

If you would get exercise, go in search of the springs of life. Think of a man's swinging dumbbells for his health, when those springs are bubbling up in far-off pastures unsought by him!

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.

This American Government,-what is it but a tradition, though a recent one, endeavoring to transmit itself unimpaired to posterity, but each instant losing some of its integrity? It has not the vitality and force of a single living man; for a single man can bend it to his will.

As there is no wholesomer, so perhaps there are few stronger, sleeping potions than fatigue.

I am incapable of telling you not to feel. Feel, feel, I say - feel for all you're worth, and even if it half kills you, for that is the only way to live...

Feel, feel, I say - feel for all you're worth, and even if it half kills you, for that is the only way to live

was after all a rather mature blossom, such as could be plucked from the stem only by a vigorous jerk.

Of a slim-waisted deer-swift boy... My tongue remembers and is young.

I too love everything that flows: rivers, sewers, lava, semen, blood, bile, words, sentences. I love the amniotic fluid when it spills out of the bag. I love the kidney with it's painful gall-stones, it's gravel and what-not; I love the urine that pours out scalding and the clap that runs endlessly; I love the words of hysterics and the sentences that flow on like dysentery and mirror all the sick images of the soul...

You must be life for me to the very end, so he writes. That is the only way in which to sustain my idea of you. Because you have gotten, as you see, tied up with something so vital to me, I do not think I shall ever shake you off. Nor do I wish to. I want you to live more vitally every day, as I am dead. That is why, when I speak of you to others, I am just a bit ashamed. It's hard to talk of one's self so intimately

Until it is kindled by a spirit as flamingly alive as the one which gave it birth a book is dead to us. Words divested of their magic are but dead hieroglyphs.

No quiero ser razonable ni lógico. ¡Los detesto! Quiero reventar de risa, quiero divertirme. Quiero hacer algo. Quiero sentarme en un café y pasarme el día hablando. Dios, nosotros tenemos nuestros defectos...pero tenemos entusiasmo. Es mejor cometer errores que no hacer nada.

Ideas are living creatures, active and activating, like flowers.

She felt that in everything, sublime or ignoble, there was hidden a turbulent, a vital force, a significance and beauty which art, however glorious, was but a pale refection. "I want to live!" she muttered wildly. "I want to live!