People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend.

There is nothing at all to be done about it, There is nothing to do about anything.

Anything can happen: anything. Or nothing. Who can say? The world, monstrous, is made that way, and in the end consumes us all. Who am I, administrated or no, to have the audacity to survive it?

There is no escape from me, not even in death.

From the beginning, through the middle years and up to the end: too bad, too bad, too bad.

Sometimes I didn't think the world was worth it. Saving. Sometimes I didn't think I was worth it either.

The question isn't Why do we die? The question is Why do we live?

The same numbness and disappointment every day sends some people looking for something tragic for proof of life.

Every phenomenon is a corrupt version of another, larger phenomenon: time, a disease of eternity; history, a disease of time; life, again, a disease of matter. Then what is normal, what is healthy?...

That was the worst truth of all: alone. The word was a kind of death.

Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,And look on death itself!

Mechanism! Everywhere - - mechanism! Devices for getting away from life so complete that there seemed no life to get away from.

I'm evolving, is the thing; I'm a god becoming a constellation. The constellations are mostly demigods,' I point out. 'And they didn't get to be constellations until after they died.' He laughs at...

A day came when I should have died, and after that nothing seemed very important, so I stayed as I am, without regret separated from the normal human condition.

In the presence of death reason and philosophy are silent

I think: perhaps the sky is a huge sea of fresh water and we, instead of walking under it, walk on top of it; perhaps we see everything upside down and the earth is a kind of sky, so that when we die,...

Have I had two roads, I would have chosen their third.

Mirrors on the ceiling, The pink champagne on ice And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device' And in the master's chambers, They gathered for the feast They stab it with their...

His eyes close, and he draws a long breath. When they open again, they're colder than ever. And that's where you'd be disappointed, Lou. There is no good to be found in Death.

Our life is a journey, through winter and night, We look for our way, in a sky without light.

All beings so far have created something beyond themselves; and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man? What is the ape to man? A...

Well, then, what's the plan now? You can't stay here forever.'My plan was indeed to stay there forever.

That boy never seemed to smile and he wore long sleeves year-round, and I was not so different from him - we were both unable to get near the real life in life.

Mine, said the stone, mine is the hour. I crush the scissors, such is my power. Stronger than wishes, my power, alone. Mine, said the paper, mine are the words that smother the stone with imagined...

Our world must be hell, then. It must be the hell of some other place where all of us committed atrocious sins of some sort, and now we're stuck here until we die and either come back or are whisked...

I don't want to be human. I want to see gamma rays, I want to hear X-rays, and I want to smell dark matter. Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can't even express these things properly, because I...

The questions push me further into the space in between, the place where my madness lays waiting for me. I struggle with each question, determined to extract some sort of answer, an explanation for...

They ate my humanity but no humanity in beginning humans Earth dust atoms. Clever microorganisms defy gods but defy nothing. Phantom of truth beneath reality's facade.

No more worlds like this / No more days like that

Cold comradeship do stars provide. They light the closer, inner side of night's vast weight, which, chill and clear, pulls on us like some puppeteer. Its unseen threads to heads and hearts attached,...