living

Who is the daughter of God?

Take a moment from time to time to remember that you are alive. I know this sounds a trifle obvious, but it is amazing how little time we take to remark upon this singular and gratifying fact. By most astounding stroke of luck and infinitesimal portion of all the matter in the universe came together to create you and for the tiniest moment in the great span of eternity you have the incomparable privilege to exist.For endless eons there was no you. Before you know it, you will cease to be again. And in between you have this wonderful opportunity to see and feel and think and do. Whatever else you do with your life, nothing will remotely compare with the incredible accomplishment of having managed to get yourself born. Congratulations. Well done. You really are special.

a soul is far too large to hide.

Every time we look at the clock, we must learn to feel a sense of urgency. We must learn to realize that __ow_ is happening and will very soon be gone. We must look at the digits on the display and be overcome with an urge to do something before those digits change. Before __ow_ slips through our fingers. We must look at the ink on the calendar and see an immediate opportunity to do something wonderful, incredible, or beautiful.It__ that simple. We need to change our thinking from __hen the number changes_ to __efore the number changes_.

It__ not that we have to leave this life one day, it's how many things we have to leave all at once: holding hands, hotel rooms, wine, summertime, drunkenness, and the physics of falling leaves, clothing, myrrh, perfumed hair, flirting friends, two strangers' glance; the reflection of the moon, with words like, 'Soon' ... 'do you want me?' ... '...to lie enlaced' ... 'and sleep entwined' thinking ahead, with thoughts behind...?' _, Why!Why can__ we leave this life slowly?

Why does everyone think a guy who prefers love to people is missing something in his life?

I mean obviously, staying alive is pretty fucking important_._._._but there__ got to be something beyond that, right?

Paraphrasing Yeats: It was as the Irish poet had written, a waste of breath, the years that had gone past, the years to come. There was only the present moment to live and die in. [ref. An Irish Airman Foresees His Death ...The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death. W.B. Yeats

Do You think it matters if they're tiny or deep? he asked. Well, if they're not tiny breaths and they're not deep breaths, then they're just ... breaths. Then you're just breathing for the sake of ... breathing. ... Seize them. Feel them. Love them ...

The most wonderful inspirations die with their subject, if he has no hand to paint them to the senses.

Death changes us, the living. In the presence of death, we become more aware of life.... It can inspire us to decide what really matters in life--and then to seek it. (Founder of M.A.D.D.)

Life is a book that someone else is reading__nd you, a key character__ence the need for continual conflict and resolution. We can't have any boring books.

Life demands much. Give more.

architecture is a way of life

See with your mind, Speak with your heart,Touch with your eyes, Love with your entire being.

Ah, lust. It makes us forget anything we want to. The greatest relaxant, the greatest stimulant.

He was pale as only one state on Bhast dictated__ot lacking color necessarily or vitality, certainly. Fey white was more comparable to a pearl; the color subtle and the luster soft, but still vibrant. In spite of the tragedy that could come with it, it was not a dying state. It was a state of living_sometimes much more brilliantly than people could cope with, including the Fey individuals themselves.

See the world anew and write down the bones of it.