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life

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If you always postpone pleasure you will never have it. Quit work and play for awhile.
Benjamin Franklin
Well done is better than well said.
Charles Swindoll
Life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it.
Frank Zappa
There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life.
Friedrich Nietzsche
When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.
He who has a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'.
George Bernard Shaw
The longer I live the more I see that I am never wrong about anything, and that all the pains that I have so humbly taken to verify my notions have only wasted my time.
There are some experiences in life which should not be demanded twice from any man, and one of them is listening to the Brahms Requiem.
Groucho Marx
I've had a wonderful time, but this wasn't it.
H. H. Munro
He is one of those people who would be enormously improved by death.
Ian L. Fleming
I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.
Jean Cocteau
The instinct of nearly all societies is to lock up anybody who is truly free. First, society begins by trying to beat you up. If this fails, they try to poison you. If this fails too, they finish by loading honors on your head.
Jean-Paul Sartre
Everything has been figured out, except how to live.
Joan Didion
I’m not telling you to make the world better, because I don’t think that progress is necessarily part of the package. I’m just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if you ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave’s a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that’s what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it.
Los Angeles weather is the weather of catastrophe, of apocalypse, and, just as the reliably long and bitter winters of New England determine the way life is lived there, so the violence and the unpredictability of the Santa Ana affect the entire quality of life in Los Angeles, accentuate its impermanence, its unreliability. The wind shows us how close to the edge we are.
You get the sense that it’s possible simply to go through life noticing things and writing them down and that this is OK, it’s worth doing. That the seemingly insignificant things that most of us spend our days noticing are really significant, have meaning, and tell us something.
Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it.
We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.
There is no real way to deal with everything we lose.
I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked door. The fear is for what is still to be lost.