There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the read more

There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian, whose portal we call Death.

It's impossible to experience one's death objectively and still carry a tune.

It's impossible to experience one's death objectively and still carry a tune.

Due to technical difficulties the light at the end of the tunnel will be off until further notice.

Due to technical difficulties the light at the end of the tunnel will be off until further notice.

There's a thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die; their silence.

There's a thing that keeps surprising you about stormy old friends after they die; their silence.

You can kill a man but you can't kill an idea.

You can kill a man but you can't kill an idea.

The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is read more

The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.

He had been, he said, an unconscionable time dying; but he hoped that they would excuse it.

He had been, he said, an unconscionable time dying; but he hoped that they would excuse it.

I meant, said Ipslore bitterly, what is there in this world that truly makes living worth while? Death thought about read more

I meant, said Ipslore bitterly, what is there in this world that truly makes living worth while? Death thought about it, Cats, he said eventually, Cats are Nice.

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.