| Amount of texts to »life« | 141, and there are 135 texts (95.74%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3) |
| Average lenght of texts | 111 Characters |
| Average Rating | 3.652 points, 23 Not rated texts |
| First text | on May 19th 2000, 10:15:44 wrote Pat about life |
| Latest text | on Nov 1st 2015, 09:10:02 wrote carolyn stewart about life |
| Some texts that have not been rated at all
(overall: 23) |
on Jan 8th 2001, 13:04:50 wrote
on Oct 21st 2002, 17:09:14 wrote
on Apr 24th 2002, 01:36:19 wrote |
When it comes time to cash in that Ninth Life, I hope I will be in the sea. Man is a fish in exile. To become part of a kaleidoscopically dazzling coral reef certainly seems preferable to becoming food for worms in a city cemetery or burning in a crematory oven for an hour and a half.
It is a common saying, and in everybody’s mouth, that life is but a sojourn.
--Plato.
Is there any intelligent life on earth?
Yes, but I am only visiting.
LIFE! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me 's a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains of me.
---------- Anna Lætitia Barbauld. 1743–1825
My Life Closed Twice Before it Closed
by Emily Dickinson
My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
Living on earth is expensive, but it does include a free trip around the sun.
Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.
(Eleanor Roosevelt)
The best use of life is to spend it for something that outlasts life.
William James
I wonder what it was in Emily Dickinson's life that made her think that parting partook of heaven – especially if she was talking about the final parting of death, which I assume she was.
For me, another great poet, Goethe, was nearer the mark, when he said that we must always be careful – for every parting with those we love contains within it the seeds of madness....
When we speak the word »life« it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach.
(Antonin Artaud)
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