I'm pretty afraid of death. People have told me that they're not afraid, but I certainly am. The things of the world matter to me. It's hard to imagine letting go.
A general cry of "What book? What book? Let us see this famous book!
Could I but lay my head in your lap, lass. Feel your hand on me, and sleep wi' the scent of you in my bed. Christ, Sassenach. I need ye.
Really rather fascinating, you know,' he confided, and I recognized, with an internal sigh, the song of the scholar, as identifying a sound as the terr-whit! of a thrush.
Home is the place where they have to take you in
But a man is not forgotten, as long as there are two people left under the sky. One, to tell the story; the other, to hear it.
It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.
I'm very at home working with mythology.
Exercise cannot secure us from that dissolution to which we are decreed; but while the soul and body continue united, it can make the association pleasing, and give probable hopes that they shall be disciplined by an easy separation. . . to die is the fate of man; but to die with lingering anguish is generally his folly.
Oh Lord! Open the doors of night for me So that I may leave this place and disappear.
Create the space and a bigger life happens