A Quote by Bernard Beckett

In the end, living is defined by dying. — © Bernard Beckett
In the end, living is defined by dying.
In the end, living is defined by dying. Book-ended by oblivion, we are caught in the vice of terror, squeezed to bursting by the approaching end. Fear is ever-present, waiting to be called to the surface. Change brought fear, and fear brought destruction.
Dying, dying, someone told me just recently, dying is easy. Living is hard. for everyone.
Living is the challenge. Not dying. Dying is so easy. Sometimes it only takes ten seconds to die. But living? That can take you eighty years and you do something in that time.
When we see the wholeness of being born, living, and dying, there is a joy in living and a grace in dying.
When one existentially awakens from within, the relation of birth-and-death is not seen as a sequential change from the former to the latter. Rather, living as it is, is no more than dying, and at the same time there is no living separate from dying. This means that life itself is death and death itself is life. That is, we do not shift sequentially from birth to death, but undergo living-dying in each and every moment.
A vision is something worth living for, and it is something worth dying for. In fact, if it is not worth dying for, it is not worth living for. Brave, godly martyrs throughout history have proven time and again that what we as Christians live for is worth dying for.
"Surely so many countries can't all be worth dying for." "Anything worth living for," said Nately, "is worth dying for." "And anything worth dying for," answered the sacrilegious old man, "is certainly worth living for."
That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape---the world or the end of it?
We are always dying, all the time. That's what living is; living is dying, little by little. It is a sequenced collection of individualized deaths.
Dying is overrated. Human sentimentality has twisted it into the ultimate act of love. Biggest load of bullshit in the world. Dying for someone isn't the hard thing. The man that dies escapes. Plain and simple. Game over. End of pain...Try living for someone. Through it all-good, bad, thick, thin, joy, suffering. That's the hard thing.
Pleasure is the beginning and the end of living happily. Epicurus taught: Pleasure, defined as freedom from pain, is the highest good.
Everything kills you, you're dying everyday. You're either dying everyday or you're living every day and I'm living everyday.
Dying--shucks! If you kin handle the living, what's to be afraid of the dying?
We start dying when we have nothing worth living for. And we don't really start living until we find something worth dying for
That’s it?” Jason asked. “You spent an hour talking about how lucky you were to be dying?” No, not dying, Son. Living.
What if this were Hell, this absence of sleep, this poet's desert, this pain of living, this dying of not dying, this anguish of shadows, this passion over death and light.
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