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Death always waits. The door of the hearse is never closed.
Death always waits. The door of the hearse is never closed.
Natural forces within us are the true healers of disease.
Natural forces within us are the true healers of disease.
Most people would rather die than think;
in fact, they do so.
Most people would rather die than think;
in fact, they do so.
MUFFLED CADENCE
The sound of shot.
The roar of gun.
Thy will be done
blares the drum.
The sudden shock.
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MUFFLED CADENCE
The sound of shot.
The roar of gun.
Thy will be done
blares the drum.
The sudden shock.
The news farflung.
Thy will be done
beats the drum.
The hour of grief.
The darkened sun.
Thy will be done
rolls the drum.
The sound of shot.
The grave begun.
Thy will be done
mourns the drum.
**
by N Marshall Bertsch
(N Marshall Bertsch is a Republican who was profoundly
griefstricken by the assassination of John F Kennedy).
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and read more
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
To be in a world which is a hell, to be of that world and neither to believe in or read more
To be in a world which is a hell, to be of that world and neither to believe in or guess at anything but that world is not merely hell but the only possible damnation: the act of a man damning himself. It may be -- I hope it is -- redemption to guess and perhaps perceive that the universe, the hell which we see for all its beauty, vastness, majesty, is only part of a whole which is quite unimaginable.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
As men, we are all equal in the presence of death.
As men, we are all equal in the presence of death.
When he shall die Take him and cut him in little stars And he will make the face of heaven read more
When he shall die Take him and cut him in little stars And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
