But after I got them to leave and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn't any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.
door death light good rain leave left hospital
Of all the miracles Po had seen in the time and space of its death, Po thought this--the absorption of another, the carrying of it--was the most bewildering and remarkable of all. Whenever Bundle separated again, Po was left with an ache of sadness that reminded the ghost of the body it had left behind.
miracles death time body thought sadness loss space grief separation afterlife left ghost
Shinji slowly fell forward onto his face. Debris bounced up on impact. It took less than thirty seconds for the rest of his body to die. The memento of his beloved uncle--the earring worn by the woman he loved--was now stained with the blood running down Shinji's left ear, reflecting the glow from the red flames of the farm building. And so the boy known as the Third Man, Shinji Mimura, was dead.
man death rest body running sad woman blood forward face dead die impact boy red left beloved
I began to feel that all the people I'd ever known who had died or left me had not in fact gone away, but continued to live on inside me just as this man's wife lived on inside him.
people death live feel wife fact inside left
From this outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse, and that was only that he wished to go on living. Did all dying people feel this way, as if they had never lived? Did life seem that short, indeed, over and done before you took a breath? Did it seem this abrupt and impossible to everyone, or only to himself, here, now, with a few hours left to him for thought and deliberation?
life people death thought living breath feel remorse impossible dying left short
Let not the rash marble riskgarrulous breaches of oblivion's omnipotence, in many words recallingname, renown, events, birthplace. All those glass jewels are best left in the dark. Let not the marble say what men do not. The essentials of the dead man's life--the trembling hope, the implacable miracle of pain, the wonder of sensual delight--will abide forever. Blindly the uncertain soul asks to continuewhen it is the lives of others that will make that happen, as you yourself are the mirror and imageof those who did not live as long as youand others will be (and are) your immortality on earth.
pain philosophy life men death self live soul earth miracle immortality dark words mortality glass events lives dead forever mirror translation left hope
Weeping is not the same thing as crying, It takes your whole body to weep, and when itt have any bones left to hold you up.
death body crying lost tragedy weeping bones weep left thing
The only education in grief that any of us ever gets is a crash course. Until Caroline had died I had belonged to that other world, the place of innocence, and linear expectations, where I thught grief was a simple, wrenching realm of sadness and longing that graduallu receded. What that definition left out was the body blow that loss inflicts, as well as the temporary madness, and a range of less straightforward emotions shocking in their intensity.
emotions innocence death body world education sadness loss definition grief expectations simple madness longing place intensity left realm
And often the worst thing wasn't the victims--they were dead, after all, and beyond any more pain. The worst thing was those who loved them and survived them. Often the walking dead from now on, shell-shocked, hearts ruptured, stumbling through the remainder of their lives without anything left inside of them but blood and organs, impervious to pain, having learned nothing except that the worst things did, in fact, sometimes happen. (Mystic River)
pain death walking hearts lives blood river dead things fact inside left worst learned thing
O, that this too too solid flesh would meltThaw and resolve itself into a dew!Or that the Everlasting had not fix'dHis canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world!Fie on't! Ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in naturePossess it merely. That it should come to this!But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my motherThat he might not beteem the winds of heavenVisit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grownBy what it fed on: and yet, within a month--Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--A little month, or ere those shoes were oldWith which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears: --why she, even she--O, God! A beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my fatherThan I to Hercules: within a month: Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tearsHad left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to postWith such dexterity to incestuous sheets!It is not nor it cannot come to good: But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
anger discourse speed death body world earth heart heaven reason tears loving break good resolve woman remember king poor grief eyes face dead things beast wicked brother shoes flesh garden appetite seed married left tongue god gross
Death is never swift.. No matter how those left behind would like to comfort themselves with the thought. -Before Ever After
life death thought comfort matter left
Death is harder on those who are left behind.
death grieving left
Bones are patient. Bones never tire nor do they run away. When you come upon a man who has been dead many years, his bones will still be lying there, in place, content, patiently waiting, but his flesh will have gotten up and left him. Water is like flesh. Water will not stand still. It is always off to somewhere else; restless, talkative, and curious. Even water in a covered jar will disappear in time. Flesh is water. Stones are like bones. Satisfied. Patient. Dependable. Tell me, then, Alobar, in order to achieve immortality, should you emulate water or stone? Should you trust your flesh or your bones?
trust life content man order death time lying immortality achieve water waiting bones stand dead place run flesh permanence left curious stones
It's not the dead even. They're gone. Nothing you can do about that. It's what's left behind - the echo. These woods you're walking through. There are some old timers who think a sound echoes here forever. Makes sense when you think about it. That Billingham kid. I'm sure he screamed. He screams, it echoes, just bounces back and forth, the sound getting smaller and smaller, but never entirely disappearing. Like a part of his is still calling out, even now.
sound death walking sense dead forever calling woods part echo left scream
It was almost a mystical experience. I do not know how else to put it. My mind outran time as he neared, and it was as though I had an eternity to ponder the approach of this man who was my brother. His garments were filthy, his face blackened, the stump of his right arm raised, gesturing anywhere. The great beast that he rode was striped, black and red, with a wild red mane and tail. But it really was a horse, and its eyes rolled and there was foam at its mouth and its breathing was painful to hear. I saw then that he wore his blade slung across his back, for its haft protruded high above his right shoulder. Still slowing, eyes fixed upon me, he departed the road, bearing slightly toward my left, jerked the reins once and released them, keeping control of the horse with his knees. His left hand went up in a salute-like movement that passed above his head and seized the hilt of his weapon. It came free without a sound, describing a beautiful arc above him and coming to rest in a lethal position out from his left shoulder and slanting back, like a single wing of dull steel with a minuscule line of edge that gleamed like a filament of mirror. The picture he presented was burned into my mind with a kind of magnificence, a certain splendor that was strangely moving. The blade was a long, scythe like affair that I had seen him use before. Only then we had stood as allies against a mutual foe I had begun to believe unbeatable. Benedict had proved otherwise that night. Now that I saw it raised against me I was overwhelmed with a sense of my own mortality, which I had never experienced before in this fashion. It was as though a layer had been stripped from the world and I had a sudden, full understanding of death itself.
weapon sound mysticism steel man mind death time rest sense experience world kind control eternity beautiful understanding fashion moving road mortality night black wild allies eyes free movement mouth breathing picture face beast brother hand hear single head horse great mirror affair red left dull
See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory that someone has left this world, you are still in it. And the very act of living is a tide: at first it seems to make no difference at all, and then one day you look down and see how much pain has eroded.
pain life death memory world living difference day grief bitter act left
(On WWI: )A man of importance had been shot at a place I could not pronounce in Swahili or in English, and, because of this shooting, whole countries were at war. It seemed a laborious method of retribution, but that was the way it was being done...A messenger came to the farm with a story to tell. It was not a story that meant much as stories went in those days. It was about how the war progressed in German East Africa and about a tall young man who was killed in it... It was an ordinary story, but Kibii and I, who knew him well, thought there was no story like it, or one as sad, and we think so now. The young man tied his shuka on his shoulder one day and took his shield and his spear and went to war. He thought war was made of spears and shields and courage, and he brought them all. But they gave him a gun, so he left the spear and the shield behind him and took the courage, and went where they sent him because they said this was his duty and he believed in duty... He took the gun and held it the way they had told him to hold it, and walked where they told him to walk, smiling a little and looking for another man to fight. He was shot and killed by the other man, who also believed in duty, and he was buried where he fell. It was so simple and so unimportant. But of course it meant something to Kibii and me, because the tall young man was Kibii's father and my most special friend. Arab Maina died on the field of action in the service of the King. But some said it was because he had forsaken his spear.
method duty retribution man action death war days courage stories africa thought story smiling sad day fight king german simple ordinary friend special wwi young place importance gun father walk english made left shooting shot
As they prepared themselves to go ashore no one doubted in theory that at least a certain percentage of them would remain on the island dead, once they set foot on it. But no one expected to be one of these. Still it was an awesome thought and as the first contingents came struggling up on deck in full gear to form up, all eyes instinctively sought out immediately this island where they were to be put, and left, and which might possibly turn out to be a friend's grave.
death thought friends army awesome instinct eyes grave dead theory left form
The misfortune is that although everyone must come to [death], each experiences the adventure in solitude. We never left Maman during those last days.. And yet we were profoundly separated from her.
solitude misfortune adventure death days existentialism experiences aloneness left
Only the debris of wreckage, and not much of that, was left behind by the sharks who fed on tragedy: the fishermen, too, mourned the death of a living child.
death living loss child tragedy sharks left
Every time people come at us with the intention of killing us, I close my eyes and wait for death. Even thought I am still alive, I feel like each time I accept death, part of me dies. Very soon I will completely die and all that will be left is my empty body walking with you. It will be quieter than I am.
people death time walking body thought feel eyes killing alive wait die empty intention close part left accept
When the dead departed, they took away any falsehoods that they might have allowed us to believe while alive; we who are left behind have to embark on a different life, since the dead are no longer here to help us deceive ourselves.
life change truth death lies deception dead alive left
The sound is gone. There's nothing left but the insomniac throbbing of crickets. Crickets in the garden, the courtyard, the back courtyard. Close, domestic, identifiable. And those out in the country. Between all of them they raise, little by little, a wall that will keep out the thing that lies waiting for the tiniest crack of silence to steal through. The thing that is feared by all those who are sleepless, those who walk through the night, those who are lonely, children. That thing. The voice of the dead.
silence sound death voice lies children night waiting wall dead lonely walk country garden close left thing steal
Feeling sorry for yourself is a universal solvent of salvation.
man men soul human self-pity respect paul feel pity last universal sorry hand left god cale hoffman tomas
Self-pity, while it should be accorded due respect, is the greatest of all acids to the human soul.
man men soul human self-pity respect paul pity last universal hand left god cale hoffman tomas
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