A Quote by Libba Bray

All morning, Spence has been a well-oiled machine of activity. Everyone doing her bit, quietly and efficiently. It's strange how deliberate people are after a death. All the indecision suddenly vanishes into clear, defined moments--changing the linens, choosing a dress or a hymn, the washing up, the muttering of prayers. All the small, simple, conscious acts of living a sudden defense against the dying we do every day.
All the small, simple, conscious acts of living a sudden defense against the dying we do every day.
Not taking those few moments in the morning to decide what you're saying to people by how you're choosing to dress is a lost opportunity.
Many strange-looking people obviously dress according to deep convictions that are not shared by on-lookers - they clearly do not know how they actually look, but are satisfied with what their clothes make them feel and believe about their looks. These people may be the true originals, even though they are certainly not the best appreciated. The famous messages of dress, the well-known language of clothes, is very often not doing any communicating at all; a good deal of it is a form of private muttering.
She was unaware that she was somewhat of a celebrity up in heaven. I had told people about her, what she did, how she observed moments of silence up and down the city and wrote small individual prayers in her journal, and the story had travelled so quickly that women lined up to know she had found where they’d been killed. She had fans in heaven..... Meanwhile, for us, she was doing important work, work that most people on Earth were too frightened even too contemplate.
I am enjoying my face changing, as well as realizing that at the same time, as you get older, the machine isn't as well-oiled as it was.
Every day there are small moments when we have a choice: will we take in more stuff, or just clear our minds out for a bit?
I have been reading the morning paper. I do it every morning-knowing well that I shall find in it the usual depravities and basenesses and hypocrisies and cruelties that make up civilization, and cause me to put in the rest of the day pleading for the damnation of the human race. I cannot seem to get my prayers answered, yet I do not despair.
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.
And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?
I think that were I in the middle of an obsession to write about, say, sudden oak death in California or my grandchildren or time and memory and how they look when you get to be in your sixties, and I thought, "Well, yes but people are dying every day in Baghdad," I wouldn't feel guilty about not writing about Baghdad if I didn't have any good ideas about how to write about it.
On every show I've been on, it's just managing all the different responsibilities and time management. 'The Walking Dead' is a really well-oiled machine, and I have a great number of people who do a great number of things very well.
In the morning I stand up, scratch a little bit, then I light a candle and I meditate. Every morning. I've been meditating for maybe 20 years. I meditate so I can make choices; so I'm not a sheep all the time. So I can see better than what everyone else is doing.
Well-developed faith results in well-defined prayers, and well-defined prayers result in a well-lived life.
Can there be anything more sad than a girl dying on the day of her first communion, in her new dress. A little bride of death.
I don't think anyone can understand what's happening. Something like this is so rare. It's a mix of chance and coincidence. You wake up one day and you're suddenly a star.. Really weird. All of a sudden everyone knows who you are while you haven't changed one bit
If you have only one passion in life - football - and you pursue it to the exclusion of everything else, it becomes very dangerous. When you stop doing this activity it is as though you are dying. The death of that activity is a death in itself.
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