eternity

Once waking into the realization that eternity is waiting in every moment, I discovered that wealth is time, not money.

if i had forever to do whatever i wanted, i would spend three years in reality and spend the rest of my time just thinking and decrypting what i saw and what would have happened to make it like so.

Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest?'Tis that every mother's sonTravails with a skeleton.Lie down in the bed of dust;Bear the fruit that bear you must;Bring the eternal seed to light,And morn is all the same as night.

For eternity, time is standing still. In the expanding space, we are moving

We see eternity through a microscopic window of time.

Money is a cheap but powerful substitute for Jesus, and wielding money is intoxicating, but it won't usher in the kingdom of God, nor will it ensure eternal treasures.

Jesus may give you eternal life, but until then, your ass going to stay right were it is until you do something about it.

Jesus died on the cross not only so I wouldn't have to go to hell, but also to give me an abundant life on this Earth.

One thing God has been showing me is that I'm not called to save the world, just to point those He places in my life towards the right way.

Only a sentimental being would care about such everyday things__hings used and discarded by the humans of their respective eras without thought, yet kept and preserved by an immortal who never forgot them. An immortal who loved and cared for them, dusting them off for an eternity, keeping their dead spirits as alive as he__tuck in their immortal tomb never to find the rest everything must eventually seek. Time had no meaning in this cavern of infinite age.

...I've decided ... love is an eternity of slow motion replays ...

To live in the hearts we leave behind is to live forever.

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burnThe living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmityShall you pace forth; your praise shall still find roomEven in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom.So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Are we not, all of us, in some way, damaged mirrors? Are we not constantly engaged in focusing the light of thought__emories out of the depths of human experience__nto the photographic plate of each moment? The image captured in this instant is a snapshot of all eternity, subtly altered by our own brokenness. And who__ to say that the image formed by a damaged mirror is not a truer picture of the universe?

Maybe the most sacred function of memory is just that: to render the distinction between past, present, and future ultimately meaningless; to enable us at some level of our being to inhabit that same eternity which it is said that God himself inhabits.

No self is of itself alone. It has a long chain of intellectual ancestors. The "I" is chained to ancestry by many factors_ This is not mere allegory, but an eternal memory.

To remember nothing," they would say. "What more could one possibly ask of eternity?

There is a continuity in our lives__ strain of music that flows through it all, unaltered by death or pain. It is true that in the face of pain and death, we are very small. But in the face of life and memory and love, even death is very small.