Humans were so stupid. They had something so precious, and they barely safeguarded it at all. They threw away their lives for money, for packets of powder, for a stranger's charming smile.
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The moral sense in mortals is the dutyWe have to pay on mortal sense of beauty.
Anatomy lab, in the end, becomes less a violation of the sacred and more something that interferes with happy hour, and that realization discomfits. In our rare reflective moments, we were all silently apologizing to our cadavers, not because we sensed the transgression but because we did not.
Man is mortal, and as the professor so rightly said mortality can come so suddenly
The human animal is a beast that dies and if he's got money he buys and buys and buys and I think the reason he buys everything he can buy is that in the back of his mind he has the crazy hope that one of his purchases will be life everlasting!--Which it never can be....
I don't see how you mortals do it, these feelings you must endure. they will ruin you in the end.
The song is an unvarnished love shout, an implorement tinged with...anger? Something like anger, but the anger of a philosoher, the anger of a pot. An anger directed at the transience of the world, at its heartbreaking beauty that collides constantly with our awareness of the fact that everything gets taken away, that we're being shown marvels but reminded always that they don't belong to us. They're sultans' treasures; we're lucky, we're expected to feel lucky to have been invited to see them at all.
Murder was a fascination as always.
Americans in 1763 lived always in the shadow and presence of death. Death was not yet romanticized as it would be in the 19th century, nor yet sanitized as it would be in the 20th century.
Most sane human beings_ chances of being alive in a thousand years_ time are a hundred times higher than their chances of being sincerely happy for at least ten consecutive days.
A man who's discontents were barely known to himself, awakening in middle age to the horror of self-reflection.
I knew the end would come, one day. I knew my life deserved to be over. Yet, even knowing that, I was no less fearful.