A Quote by Anna Godbersen
The living are made of nothing but flaws. The dead, with each passing day in the afterlife, become more and more impeccable to those who remain earthbound.
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The reality is that living digitally rewires our brains for perpetual motion, shallow surface thinking, and compulsive/addictive behaviors. Because our world is only going to become more tech-driven with each passing day, unless we find ways to counterbalance these detrimental effects, we'll remain spiritual babes, drinking milk for the rest of our lives instead of the solid food God has for us.
The world is moving ahead to become more integrated and connected, where movement of goods and people is becoming easier with each passing day.
I was never young. Whoever I was then is dead. That's more of your quills. I don't want a hide full, thanks. I have always figured that you die each day and and each day is a is a box, you see, all numbered and neat; but never go back and lift the lids, because you have died a couple thousand times in your life, and that's a lot of corpses, each dead a different way, each with a worse expression. Each of those days is a different you, somebody you don't know or understand or want to understand.
Most humans, in varying degrees, are already dead. In one way or another they have lost their dreams, their ambitions, their desire for a better life. They have surrendered their fight for self-esteem and they have compromised their great potential. They have settled for a life of mediocrity, days of despair and nights of tears. They are no more than living deaths confined to cemeteries of their choice. Yet they need not remain in that state. They can be resurrected from their sorry condition. They can each perform the greatest miracle in the world. They can each come back from the dead.
No more painters, no more scribblers, no more musicians, no more sculptors, no more religions, no more royalists, no more radicals, no more imperialists, no more anarchists, no more socialists, no more communists, no more proletariat, no more democrats, no more republicans, no more bourgeois, no more aristocrats, no more arms, no more police, no more nations, an end at last to all this stupidity, nothing left, nothing at all, nothing, nothing.
We Americans have an obligation to come to China, to learn more about China. Why? Because with each passing day, it's going to be more and more in our future.
Suddenly all those careful preparations disintegrated as predators far more dangerous than the walking dead proved what all wise killers already knew: that nothing was more dangerous than living men.
I take my citizenship extremely seriously. I find myself drawn to the Constitution more and more with each passing day of Donald Trump's presidency.
With each passing year, because of advances in computer technology, there are more things, each more sophisticated, that we aren't allowed to do any more.
Psychoanalysis has taught that the dead – a dead parent, for example – can be more alive for us, more powerful, more scary, than the living. It is the question of ghosts.
Mother Teresa- cream. Exemplars, exemplary models we can learn from and become more like, but we don't have to imitate them. We can become more authentically ourselves, impeccable and unselfish, and beneficial to many like a wish fulfilling jewel.
All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. ... But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.
George Harrison's passing was really sad, but it does make the afterlife seem much more attractive.
With each passing day, I didn't lose hope. I fought to have more.
There was always a quest for more minutes, more hours, faster progress to accomplish more in each day. The simple joy of living between summers was gone.
But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
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