You know that saying "today is the first day of the rest of your life".

That's true for every day except one.

The day you die.

 

The symptoms of fear have always been the same.

They were the same when men had to face wild beasts and they are the same today.

Blood drains away from the face and epidermis, to avoid blood loss. It's why people turn pale.

The intestines relax and release everything, so there will be no toxic matter left to contaminate the organism. It's why people "shit themselves".

The body initially refuses to move, so as not to provoke the predator by any sudden movement. It's why people freeze up.

 

Someone's spirit has no name.

It is pure truth and inhabits a particular body for a period of time, and will, one day, leave it.

God won't bother asking "What's your name?" when the soul arrives for judgement.

When Moses asked God for His name, God answered:

"I Am Who I Am."

 

If you find a watch in the desert you don't assume that it was spontaneously created.

You figure that somebody made it. That there is a watchmaker.

 

Women, when searching for a meaning to life or for the path of knowledge, always identify with one of four classic archetypes.

The Virgin is the one whose search springs from her complete independence, and everything she learns is the fruit of her ability to face challenges alone.

The Martyr finds her way to self-knowledge through pain, surrender and suffering.

The Saint finds her true reason for living in unconditional love and in her ability to give without asking anything in return.

Finally, the Witch justifies her existence by going in search of complete and limitless pleasure.

 

In a forest of a hundred thousand trees, no two leaves are alike. 

And no two journeys along the same path are alike.

 

You don't need to climb a mountain to know that it's high

 

How can we be so arrogant? 

The planet is, was, and always will be stronger than us.

We can't destroy it; 

if we overstep the mark, the planet will simply erase us from its surface and carry on existing. 

Why don't they start talking about not letting the planet destroy us?

 

And now you ask in your heart,

‘How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?’

Go to your fields and your gardens, 

and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,

But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.

For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,

And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,

And to both, bee and flower, 

the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.

 

This sweet virginal primitive land will metaphorically breathe a sigh of relief --like a whisper of wind--when we are all and finally gone and the place and its creations can return to their ancient procedures unobserved and undisturbed by the busy, anxious, brooding consciousness of man.

 

After your death, you will be what you were before your birth

 

There's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.

 

Man can be master of nothing while he fears death, 

but he who does not fear it possesses all. 

If there were no suffering, man would not know his limitations, would not know himself. 

The hardest thing is to be able in your soul to unite the meaning of all. 

Bicyclist's Philosophy of Life

 

 bicycling isn't just a matter of balance

it's a matter of faith. 

You can keep upright only by moving forward.

 You have to have your eyes on the goal, not the ground. 

 

Self-discipline is a form of freedom. 

Freedom from laziness and lethargy, 

freedom from expectations and demands of others,

 freedom from weakness and fear -- and doubt.

 

Those who grant sympathy to guilt, grant none to innocence.

Ubermensch

 

All beings so far have created something beyond themselves; 

and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man?

 What is the ape to man? 

A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. 

And man shall be just that for the overman:

 a laughingstock or a painful embarrassment…

 

Many married women who have deliberately spurned the "hour" of childbearing are unhappy and frustrated.

 They never discovered the joys of marriage because they refused to surrender to the obligation of their state.

 In saving themselves, they lost themselves

 

the woman in Dear Abby who married a handsome successful mortician

  on their wedding night, he made her soak in a tub of ice water until her skin was freezing to the touch, and then he made her lie in bed completely still while he had intercourse with her cold inert body.

 this woman had done this as a newlywed, and gone on to do it for the next ten years of marriage 

and now she was writing to Dear Abby to ask if Abby thought it meant something

 

The club is too loud to talk, so after a couple of drinks, everyone feels like the centre of attention but completely cut off from participating with anyone else.

You're the corpse in an English murder mystery

 

There is nothing a blue collar Nobody in Oregon with a public school education can imagine that a million-billion people haven't already done...

 

This is our world now, and those ancient people are dead.

 

There are bodies buried everywhere you just have to know where to look.

 

I lie on the grass and look at the stars 

They say the night has a thousand eyes 

How many eyes look down at me tonight 

I lie on the clouds and look at the grass 

The tiny flowers look like stars 

 

the place where we’re standing will only be a point in the sky.

Death

 

The amazing miracle of death, 

when one second you're walking and talking,

 and the next second you're an object.

 

Names are for tombstones 

 

Masturbation is for Wankers 

Hector

 

This was a man who moved like the gods were watching: 

every gesture he made was upright and correct. 

There was no one else it could be but Hector

The Stripper

 

Take a look around you Someone might recognize you It's not the type of place you wanna bump into friends I know what you came for To watch me on the dance floor May get what you paid for A part of your dreams

Now let me tell you why You kiss your wife goodbye You take a swig of brandy

And come here to me Getting satisfaction No negative reaction I'm playing with my body That's what you wanna see

But it's all right Come on and see me every Saturday night But it's all all right

And don't you know? My hands along my thighs You can't believe your eyes My body hypnotizes I'm a stripper! So let the show begin I'll show you everything Under my safety pin There's nothing you can say to take my pride away I can be a lady and a stripper I got ability Don't you look down on me I can live without your dirty minds Can you? Ha!

You men are all the same Don't wanna know your name Just come back again and pay the stripper So let the show begin I'll show you everything Pulling off the safety pin

I got ability
Don't you look down on me
I only want your money

Private Dancer

 

The world is full of women
who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself
if they had the chance. 

Quit dancing.
Get some self-respect
and a day job.

Right. 

And minimum wage,
and varicose veins, 

just standing
in one place for eight hours
behind a glass counter
bundled up to the neck,

 instead of
naked as a meat sandwich.

Selling gloves, or something.
Instead of what I do sell.

You have to have talent
to peddle a thing so nebulous
and without material form.

Exploited, they'd say. 

Yes, any way
you cut it, 

but I've a choice
of how, 

and I'll take the money.


I do give value.
Like preachers, I sell vision,
like perfume ads,

 desire
or its facsimile.

 Like jokes
or war,

 it's all in the timing.

I sell men back their worst suspicions:
that everything's for sale,
and piecemeal. 

They gaze at me and see
a chain-saw murder just before it happens,

when thigh, ass, inkblot, crevice, tit, and nipple
are still connected.

Such hatred leaps in them,
my beery worshipers! 

That, or a bleary
hopeless love. 

Seeing the rows of heads
and upturned eyes, imploring
but ready to snap at my ankles,

I understand floods and earthquakes,

 and the urge to step on ants. 

I keep the beat,
and dance for them because they can't. 

The music smells like foxes,
crisp as heated metal
searing the nostrils

or humid as August,

 hazy and languorous
as a looted city the day after,
when all the rape's been done already, 

and the killing,
and the survivors wander around
looking for garbage
to eat, 

and there's only a bleak exhaustion.

Speaking of which, it's the smiling
tires me out the most.
This, and the pretense
that I can't hear them.

And I can't, 

because I'm after all a foreigner to them.

The speech here is all warty gutturals,
obvious as a slam of ham,

but I come from the province of the gods
where meaning are lilting and oblique.

I don't let on to everyone,
but lean close, and I'll whisper:
My mothers was raped by a holy swan.
You believe that? 

You can take me out to dinner.
That's what we tell all the husbands.
There sure are a lot of dangerous birds around.

Not that anyone here but you would understand.

The rest of them would like to watch me and feel nothing. 

Reduce me to components

as in a clock factory or abattoir.

Crush out the mystery.
Wall me up alive  in my own body.

They'd like to see through me,
but nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.

Look - my feet don't hit the marble!

Like breath or a balloon, I'm rising,
I hover six inches in the air
in my blazing swan-egg of light.

You think I'm not a goddess?
Try me.

This is a torch song.

Touch me and you'll burn.

 

remember that centuries before, men fell in battle for the daughter of Troy, 

that passions carried greater weight than decorum. 

It took so little to prove that human life and property are devastatingly temporary.

 All she had to do was lie down for a prince.

 They burned the city to the ground

 

After so many years even the fire of passion dies, 

and with it what was believed the light of the truth.

 Who of us is able to say now whether Hector or Achilles was right,

 Agamemnon or Priam,

 when they fought over the beauty of a woman who is now dust and ashes?

 

The gods envy us. 

They envy us because we’re mortal, 

because any moment may be our last. 

Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.

 You will never be lovelier than you are now.

 We will never be here again

Heaven

 

Will you recognize me
In those flashing lights?
I try to keep my heart beat
But I can't get it right

Will you recognize me
When I'm lying on my back?
Somethings gone inside me
And I can't get it back

Will you recognize me
When I'm stealing from a car
You're not gonna like me
I'm nothing like before

Will you recognize me
When I lose another friend
Will you learn to leave me
Or give me one more try again

Oh heaven, oh heaven
I wake with good intentions
But the day, it always lasts too long
Then I'm gone
Oh heaven, oh heaven
I wake with good intentions
But the day, it always lasts too long

Then I'm gone

You say that you're away
I try but always break
'Cause the day always lasts too long

Then I'm gone

Unfinished Sympathy

 

I know that I've imagined love before
And how it could be with you

Really hurt me, baby, really cut me, baby
How can you have a day without a night?
You're the book that I have opened
And now I've got to know much more

The curiousness of your potential kiss
Has got my mind and body aching

Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I'm missing every part
He he-hey, he he-hey, he he-hey, ay, ay

I don't know where this one came from
I don't know where this, I don't know where this
I don't know where this one came from

Bitter Sweet Symphony

 

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life
Tryna make ends meet, you're a slave to money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah

Well, I've never prayed but tonight I'm on my knees, yeah
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singin' to me now

You know I can change, I can change
I can change, I can change
But I'm here in my mold
I am here in my mold
And I'm a million different people
From one day to the next
I can't change my mold
No, no, no, no, no

It's just sex and violence, melody and silence

I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down

Been down
Ever been down

Have you ever been down?

 

The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony

 

Massive Attack Unfinished Sympathy 

do you ever imagine her bumping into the bloke from The Verve going the other way ?

 

Superman flying round the World so fast he turns time back 

Flies the wrong way and ends up on The Planet Of The Apes 

 

There is no such thing as a small Miracle 

 

We take our miracles where we find them. 

We reach across the gap and sometimes, against all odds, against all logic, we touch.

 

 Boundaries don't keep other people out,

they fence you in

 you can waste your life drawing lines

... or you can live your life crossing them

One can appreciate another's words without dissecting them

Though, on occasion, sometimes dissection is the only thing that will do

The divine punishment of a sinner
mirrors the sin being punished

All gods demand sacrifice

All of our endings can be found in our beginnings.

History repeats itself,
And there is no escape.

All psychopaths are narcissists

They love to read about themselves

Forgiveness

is too great and difficult for one person . 

It requires two 

The Betrayer and The Betrayed. 

Better to live true to yourself for an instant than never know it

God can't save any of us

because its inelegant.

Elegance is more important than suffering.

That's His design.

Nobody can be fully aware

of another human being unless they love them.

By that love you see potential in your beloved.

Through that love you allow your beloved to see their potential.

Expressing that love, your beloved's potential comes true.

The Devil has been a yoke on the neck of humanity
since they first began to think and dream

The next time you have the instinct to help someone ...

You might consider crushing them instead.

It might save you a great deal of trouble.

Morality doesn't exist.

Only morale.

The essence of the worst in the human spirit
Is not found in the crazy people.

Ugliness is found in the faces of the crowd .

Extreme acts of cruelty require a high level of empathy

 

We look for shelter in a storm, but sometimes, we can't find it. 

Sometimes, we're at the mercy of the winds. We have nothing left but to accept it. 

When we face the storm, no matter how scary, no matter how much power it has over us, when we face it, we find we are the shelter. We'll survive. 

We find ourselves coming out the other side stronger for it.

 We might even find ourselves happy

 

Scars are the paler pain of survival

received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury.

 

 

Almost all human cells reproduce on a cycle. 

Up to ten percent of your heart is replaced each year. Red blood cells are replaced every four months, skin cells every two weeks. 

But neurons, the cells that make up the brain and spinal cord, don't regenerate. 

It turns out that under the right conditions, neurons can recover. If they can break from normal operations and focus on healing, they have a chance at regrowth. 

It's human nature to wanna fix what's broken. 

We may not be able to exactly replicate what we lost, but in its place, we'll grow something new. It's a long process, but it happens. Slowly but surely. 

Until we have what we need.

 

A man who wants to die feels angry and full of life and desperate and bored and exhausted, all at the same time;

 he wants to fight everyone,

 and he wants to curl up in a ball and hide in a cupboard somewhere. 

He wants to say sorry to everyone, and he wants everyone to know just how badly they've all let him down

 

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. 

Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. 

Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. 

And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. 

They somehow already know what you truly want to become. 

Everything else is secondary

 

Stories heard but not recalled.

Letters too.

Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells.

Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed.

Tearing through it all in a very, very bad irreparable way.

 

Very soon he will vanish completely in the wings of his own wordless stanza.

 

Scientists estimate the universe unfolded from its state of infinite destiny* - a moment commonly referred to as "the big bang" - approximately 1.3-2 x 10^10 years ago. *Typo: "destiny" should read "density.

 

the finest act of seeing is necessarily always the act of not seeing something else.

Superman

 There is always that discussion about whether Superman or Clark is the real personality 

This has been covered in comics then on screen 

Taking it that Kal El never got to grow up on Krypton under Jor El 

Like how Tarzan was not the Lord Greystoke he would have been if he grew up in England

 The Dean Cain version works on "Clark is who I am Superman is what I can do " 

The Chris films are taken as the description given in Kill Bill 

Superman was born Superman 

Clark is the disguise

 And it has been noted about how Clark was rejected by Lana while Superman is accepted by Lois 

It is Clarks human emotion that comes out here 

Jor El tells Superman he is not to interfere with human history

 Jonathan over rides this 

You are here for a reason 

So at this point Clark not Kal El truly becomes Superman, no restriction, pushes his power to the limit and literally turns back time

 

One day you will wake up & there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. 

Do it now.

film adaptation

 

each reader creates his own film inside his head,

 gives faces to the characters, 

constructs every scene, 

hears the voices, 

smells the smells. 

And that is why, whenever a reader goes to see a film based on a novel that he likes, he leaves feeling disappointed, saying: 

‘the book is so much better than the film.

 

 An experiment is never a failure solely because it fails to achieve predicted results. 

An experiment is a failure only when it also fails adequately to test the hypothesis in question, 

when the data it produces don't prove anything one way or another.

 

Where do one's fears come from? 

Where do they shape themselves? 

Where do they hide before coming out into the open?

 

Ownership is not limited to material things. 

It can also apply to points of view. 

Once we take ownership of an idea — whether it’s about politics or sports — what do we do? 

We love it perhaps more than we should. We prize it more than it is worth. 

And most frequently, we have trouble letting go of it because we can’t stand the idea of its loss.

 What are we left with then? 

An ideology — rigid and unyielding.

 

And although I have seen nothing but black crows in my life, it doesn't mean that there's no such thing as a white crow. 

Both for a philosopher and for a scientist it can be important not to reject the possibility of finding a white crow. 

You might almost say that hunting for 'the white crow' is science's principal task.

 

Because we have for millenia made moral, aesthetic, religious demands on the world, looked upon it with blind desire, passion or fear, and abandoned ourselves to the bad habits of illogical thinking, this world has gradually become so marvelously variegated, frightful, meaningful, soulful, it has acquired color

 - but we have been the colorists: 

it is the human intellect that has made appearances appear 

and transported its erroneous basic conceptions into things

 

Anyone who fights for the future, lives in it today.

 

The best consolation in misfortune or affliction of any kind will be the thought of other people who are in a still worse plight than yourself; 

and this is a form of consolation open to every one.

 But what an awful fate this means for mankind as a whole!

 We are like lambs in a field,

 disporting themselves under the eye of the butcher, 

who chooses out first one and then another for his prey.

 

I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, 

or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone

 

To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure